No Light Without SHaDoWs
by We Happy Few
Summary: "Nothing is more painfully bright after a blinding victory than the darkness that trails it, for the brighter that light shines, the darker and more apparent its shadows."
1. Prologue

Prologue

There are many words meant to describe giants. Strong, heavy, stubborn, confident, too big to fail. It dare not be challenged, for who would think of challenging it? A mite, a flea, merely scratching at the giant's skin; what could it hope to possibly accomplish?

At first, the giant dismissed it with arrogance; surely, this little flea could not possibly damage it in any way? The giant sent his guards to remove the flea; it was not deserving enough of the giant's attention.

Uncertainty crept in as the giant felt pain; the mite was spilling blood, cutting skin, slicing muscle. The giant started itching itself, but to no avail. The mite refused to be stopped.

Already, the giant's guards lay still on the ground, unmoving. Silent.

Dead.

The giant started attacking, causing damage, cutting and slicing in return. It grinned as it saw pain on the flea's face, blood on its cloak, hatred in its black, dead eyes. The giant prepared a killing blow; this mite would be dealt with, as the giant had already dealt with its brethren. Nothing of the sort would happen again. It would return to its throne a better giant, one that would be that much hard to topple, if it would ever be.

Then the mite looked up, stared into the giant's eyes. And for the first time, this giant felt something it would never think to feel.

Fear.

The mite fought harder than the giant could ever imagine. The giant struggled, fighting hard, cutting into this insignificant flea, this mite, this tiny being. It had sustained damage too; the pain in its eyes, the strain on its face, the suicidal speed at which it fought. It was prepared to throw away everything, risk everything, all to destroy. A flea, an epitome of insignificance, had committed itself to the destruction of a giant.

The giant watched in absolute horror as, impossibly, this flea, this mite, this _monster_ , covered in the blood of a thousand cuts, reached out towards it.

A giant's death, meant to save lives.

A pity it did not.


	2. Chapters 1-4

"Oh God, not another one."

"Yeah, I know, it's an OC series, it's been done to death, but would you just hear me out?"

"Why should I?"

"You might just like it."

"..."

"And I'll give you a cookie."

"Deal."

* * *

(insert stereotypical disclaimer about probably not owning the RWBY franchise) (insert funny joke) (insert funny insert) (insert somewhat necessary rating).

Rated T for swearing, gore, mild sexual themes, and probable bloody, painful character death.

Oh, and a lot of dark humor.

 _ **YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**_

With those joyful thoughts (inserts) out of the way, please enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Scylax hated the End.

It was the nickname of the last hour when the market would close for the day, when all the prices in the market dropped to the lowest lows as merchants tried to sell their goods before packing up for the night, the week, the month, possibly forever. There were always new merchants in this area; people tended to move towards the capital more when they had enough money to make the trip and set up a shop.

Not that he minded the rush of the market in this small town, whose name he never remembered. Nor did he hate the frantic and often drunken yelling or the merchants screaming out their prices as they tried to sell their goods for that one last hour. Besides, it was easy to pickpocket in this chaos, or to escape from anyone following him. Yes, the End had its uses.

Scylax still hated it.

He wasn't sure why at first. It wasn't necessarily the noise of the people; that, he had learned to ignore a long time ago. He didn't hate the other thieves that loved this part of the day, the rampant drinking of alcohol, the closeness of those around them, or even the possible danger of a stampede. After several hours spent in this town, he figured it out.

It was his sight.

Scylax didn't have the best vision; but what he exceeded was seeing small details from great distances away, an ability that's saved his life countless times. Especially in the desert.

So many things changed in that hellish place.

 _Stop_ , he thought to himself. _Too many painful memories_. This was no time for those memories to surface. He had to focus.

After all, he was being followed.

He wasn't exactly sure when he picked up his tail, but he knew exactly who it was before he actually saw him. It was sort of a sixth sense. After all this time, he recognized the patterns of those hunting for him. Scylax still wasn't exactly sure how.

The Black Rose was really bad at sending tails; they usually didn't come back. But the Vacuo Internal Intelligence Force, or the VIIF, always had a habit of getting on his bad side. They were experienced, they knew their way around crowds, and often knew the places they worked in like the back of their hand.

But occasionally, Scylax did enjoy VIIF visits.

He knew this agent by his nickname: Fluffy. The agent was actually a fauna that had a very thin layer of fur on his skin. When Scylax first tried to shake the agent by running through a waterfall out to the desert, he looked back at the agent struggling to keep up. The hot, dry desert air had quickly dried his fur out. It had expanded at least six times its usual length, giving him a sort of bloated, furry, and generally pissed off look to him. Unfortunately, after that day, this particular VIIR agent became practically obsessed with catching Scylax. That made for an uncomfortable situation. Scylax was being chased not for involvements in a crime ring, but as an illegal alien. He had been literally everywhere in the Remnant, never bothering with a passport. It would raise too many questions. Why was a 16-year-old travelling on his lonesome? Where were his parents? Why did that grey cloak he was wearing look military? Are you military? Hey, Brandon, this guy is military! Get over here! Hey, where are you going?

Scylax needed to get out of Vacuo. The VIIR was too aware of his presence, and with seemingly nothing better to do, set off in full force to catch him. They must have finally put the pieces together on the Nebulon incident.

Scylax reached his safe house: a small concrete apartment little more than three blocks away from the market. He hadn't lost Fluffy, and he wanted to draw him in closer. This safe house is one that he believed VIIR surely didn't know about. He set it up to be booby-trapped to trap up to ten agents for hours at a time. He hadn't been here for some time, though, and wanted to recheck them before Fluffy arrived.

Scylax realized something was wrong the second he walked into the door. He usually set a small bell on the edge of the door, as a sort of safeguard to tell if his safehouse had been searched previously.

The bell was gone.

Scylax continued walking nonchalantly into the darkened main room, hoping to try to make it out the window directly in front of him. Hiding his hands underneath his cloak, he felt the reassuring weight of his knives. He hadn't seen anything move in the room yet, but he knew it was only a matter of ti-

Fluffy's face appeared in the window in front of him. Then three things happened at once.

Fluffy drew his gun and yelled for Scylax to get on the floor.

Blindingly bright lights were shoved in his face.

A group of eight agents encircled him.

As time slowed around Scylax, he thought of his options. He could probably get out of this situation, without so much as a little exertion.

He couldn't guarantee that the agents would survive, though.

He had made a promise.

So he lay on the floor and allowed himself to be cuffed.

* * *

Chapter 2: The Spare Wheel and the Oddity

Weslyn was being left out.

Again.

She didn't really want to talk to Hannibal about the most recent combat tournament, or to Diana, who was bragging about her Semblance to some new classmates. Being held back a grade at Signal, Weslyn was really anxious to catch up with Diana and Hannibal again.

Weslyn had pushed herself very hard to graduate a year early from Signal, even though she was held back the previous year for slacking off. Fortunately, she had learned her lesson and had grown to love the world of literature and learning.

But here she was, ecstatic to meet her two best friends again, and they were ignoring her. Here they were, standing in Beacon Academy, waiting for Professor Ozpin to come out and welcome them all to the new school, and Weslyn couldn't even get her two best friends to even talk to her.

Eventually, she groaned to herself and walked off. She would find someone else; a bunch of new transfer students were here from other schools, so they had to be a little nervous and looking for someone to meet.

Contrary to her belief, most of the students here were already in their own groups, talking about a variety of subjects. None of them interested her. The crowd was obviously excited; the hushed tones and underlining feeling of anticipation made her feel alive and overwhelmingly nervous at the same time.

A boy was leaning against one of the pillars in the back of the hall. He had a curious dark grey coat, covered in what looked like a sort of camouflage pattern. He had his hood down and seemed to be asleep. Naturally, Weslyn was curious.

"Hello!" she said, putting up a warm front while walking up to him. "You must be new here." The air seemed to get physically colder as she walked toward him.

He looked up and was surprised to see emerald green eyes staring back at her. She saw nothing there but cold, hard, and calculating cynicism.

"Hello", he responded in an even tone. He sat up from his crouched position, stretching his body like a cat. "I've been transferred from Shade."

 _So he's a Vacuoan_ , Weslyn thought. _It does explain his strange cloak_. Weslyn's inexperience with people from Vacuo was understandable. Not many transfers were made between Beacon and Shade. Not to say that Beacon was necessarily better than Shade, but it was for whatever reason rare to have a transfer from there.

"So what's your name?" he asked.

Weslyn readjusted her cap and leaned on the pillar next to him. "My name's Weslyn. How long have you been going to Shade?"

"Only seven days."

"Why did you leave?"

"I graduated."

Weslyn, just trying to make some sort of conversation, was caught off guard. "SEVEN DAYS?" she shouted, sitting up in surprise, before noticing that nearly everyone nearby was staring at her. Including Diana and Hannibal.

She blushed and looked down. In seconds, everyone went back to his or her conversations.

"Sorry, but that was more than a little surprising." Weslyn said. She hadn't heard an ounce of pride or arrogance in his tone. Just hard information, like he was stating a fact.

"How did you graduate Shade in seven days? How old even are you?" She had been assuming that he was the regular 17 years old, the standard acceptance age for Beacon. Of course, she and a few others were exceptions.

He made no move to answer, and it took a couple seconds for Weslyn to realize that he was staring at the stage. Professor Ozpin was walking up to the microphone now.

Clearing his throat, with his signature spectacles on his nose and weaponized cane at his side, Ozpin began his speech.

"I'll keep this brief."

"You have all travelled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But as I look amongst you, all I see is wasted energy. Energy that needs purpose and direction."

Almost unnoticed by Weslyn, Ozpin nodded in her direction, and the boy next to her shifted his weight.

Weslyn used this opportunity to look at the boy standing next to her more closely. His cloak seemed to blend in with the poorly lit area surrounding the main auditorium, and the pattern seemed to constantly be changing in the low light. She looked at his face to discover that he had pulled off his hood, showing his short, black hair. She assumed that he had a slight build, but she couldn't tell very much with his large, flowing cloak. His eyes were as hard as they were green. She was about as tall as him.

Professor Ozpin continued without pause. "You all assume that knowledge will free you of this. But your time at this school will prove to you that knowledge can only carry you so far." Once again, Ozpin looked in her direction and paused for a second. "It is up to you to take the first step."

Weslyn looked back at the boy to find him smiling.

His eyes lost none of their coldness.

Ozpin stepped back as assistant headmaster Glynda Goodwitch stepped up the mic, reminding the students to gather in the ballroom tonight, and that initiation will begin tomorrow. Then she dismissed them all.

Weslyn looked at Diana and Hannibal, who were waving her over. She started, but paused and looked back at the boy. He was sitting still, having just pulled his hood up again. She couldn't see his eyes.

"I believe that I didn't get your name," she said in a slightly nervous tone.

The boy turned to look at her, and for the first time, his eyes seemed to lose some of their hardness. "My name is Scylax. Pleased to meet you." Then he walked off toward the exit.

* * *

Chapter 3: Princess and the Pea

Diana didn't realize she put her sleeping mat down on someone until she sat on him.

One could barely see the boy, little over sixteen with a tall but skinny frame, as he lay on the ground on top of his mat, his black cloak covering him from head to toe like a blanket.

He sat up quickly as Diana sat on his abdomen, his lungs temporarily crushed.

"Holy shit!" Diana cried in surprise as she leapt back. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!"

The boy sat up and coughed. He pushed back his hood, and Diana was a little put off at the greenness of his eyes. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Personally, I would like to thank you. I was having a rather bad dream."

Hannibal came over and looked the boy up and down. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Oh, nothing," the boy responded. "She," motioning to Diana," happened to sit down on me when I was sleeping."

Diana shrugged. "It was an accident." Hannibal seemed to accept her answer. He noticed the boy's cloak on the ground next to him.

"Where'd you get the cloak? It kinda looks military," he asked.

Hannibal took a closer look at the cloak and something clicked in his mind. "Weren't you that kid talking to Weslyn earlier?"

"Yes", replied the boy, "she was very welcoming. I really didn't know anyone around."

"What's your name, anyway?" asked Diana. She sat down, and everyone else followed suit.

"My name is Scylax."

* * *

Chapter 4: Those Asleep Are Always Early

Hannibal woke up late. He always woke up late. This was initiation day, the day that he would finally be accepted into Beacon academy. He had little doubt about his ability to pass this initiation, whatever it was. Even so, his body remained true to its habits and he slept in. He could hardly believe himself as he rushed out of the empty ballroom and into the bathrooms.

As he was getting ready, he thought about last night. Weslyn had joined them all soon after they had met Scylax. They all mostly talked about their previous schools, and Weslyn had finally caught up with Diana and Hannibal. Scylax remained an interesting character. He didn't directly answer any questions posed by the very inquisitive Diana, and Hannibal still knew very little about him.

Rushing to get dressed, Hannibal didn't notice Scylax watching him from darkened corner of the ballroom.

Hannibal sprinted into the locker room, struggling to find his weapon locker. As he ran to get there, he spotted Diana talking to two other girls taking the initiation with them. He saw Weslyn looking around for something. He didn't see Scylax anywhere. Just as he made it to his locker, the intercom beeped. "Will Hannibal Liatora, Diana Vikat, Weslyn Brunneis, and Scylax Grendel please report the Beacon Cliff for initiation?" _Strange_ , he thought. _Aren't the other kids coming with us too?_ Apparently the other kids were confused as well. The intercom beeped again. "Would the remaining students also report to Beacon Cliff in twenty minutes?"

Today was a perfect day to die a horrible death. The sun was shining, the air was a warm and comforting feel, and the sun shone brightly above.

Hannibal looked down the line of kids. He was next to Diana, who was in her classic purple and white skirt that always matched her violet eyes. Weslyn was wearing her baggy brown and green camouflage jacket and pants, complete with baggy pants of the same design, both of which also matched her brown eyes and reddish-brown hair. She constantly readjusted her similarly camo patterned cap.

Scylax looked intimidating, to say the least. His slight frame did nothing to play down the amount of danger given off by him. His cloak swayed around him in the strong breeze atop the hill. His hood was pulled down over his eyes and a straight line represented his mouth. He seemed no different than last night.

Everyone was standing in line. Weslyn was obviously nervous; she kept readjusting her cap. Diana was practically hopping from leg to leg. She lived for this sort of test, and it had been ages since Diana had fought any real Grimm. Scylax was unreadable. He stood as still as a statue. Ozpin cleared his throat and began.

"For years you have trained to become warriors. And today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest. I'm sure all of you might be confused as to why only four were called out today. I assure you, the other students will get chance to attempt their initiation.

"The Emerald Forest has recently had a decline in the amount of Grimm that populate it. Due to the reduced numbers, we will put students through the initiation in preselected groups of four. Otherwise, the initiation would be much too easy. This, of course, will guarantee that you four will be in a group."

He paused, possibly expecting a groan from any of the four. Not getting one, he continued. "On the account of partners, those will matter later in the year. Your partner will be the first person that you make eye contact with while in the forest.

"In the northern end of the forest, you will find an abandoned temple. There, you must find and bring back four relics to the cliff.

"You will meet opposition along the way; do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path. You will be monitored and graded on your performance for the duration of the initiation. But our instructors will not intervene. So work together to survive, and I'm sure all of you will make it through. Are there any questions?" Hearing none, he continued.

"Good. Take your positions."

Each student was standing on a small metal platform that would launch him or her in the air in a few seconds. "Good luck to all of you," Professor Ozpin said. "I hope to see you all at this cliff face as a team."

And like that, the students were launched into the air.

Hannibal felt the exhilarating feeling of flying, and twisted around to prepare for his landing atop a tall tree. He reached the point of climax, and felt his stomach turn inside out as he began to fall. Spreading his arms in a skydiver's controlled fall, he tried to control his decent and slow his acceleration. He happened to glimpse the top of the cliff as he fell down, and saw Scylax still standing on his platform. Then it all flew past him and he nearly impaled himself on the top of the tree.

* * *

 ** _Thank you for taking the time to read this. I would like to make a few things clear before I post any more chapters._**

 ** _1\. I would love reviews. I am still new to this whole putting-words-on-documents-and-making-them-sound-good thing and I would love some constructive criticism telling me either just how badly I fucked everything up with my lifeless characters and uninteresting and cliche writing (or maybe I did an ok job) so please, tell me either via review or PM. I would really appreciate it._**

 ** _2\. I will not have a consistent upload schedule, but I do plan to make this story a long one._**

 ** _3\. More chapters coming soon! (they will be longer)_**


	3. Chapters 5-8

_A grin. A smile, streaked with blood._

 _Such a wonderful smile._

 _Brown eyes, filled with pain, fear, wonder._

 _Wonderful eyes. Blank eyes._

 _Dead eyes._

 _No pain. No sorrow. No hatred._

 _Only tears._

 _I smile with envy._

* * *

Chapter 5: True Initiation

Three seconds in the air, and Diana was already worried about Weslyn. The platforms were obviously set up to spread all four of them out as far as they could, probably to make the initiation more challenging. Weslyn, with her sniper rifle, was an amazing shot, but she was much less skilled with her glaive. She worried so much that she almost slammed headfirst into one of the tallest trees in the forest. As she flew past it, she stuck both of her scythes into its trunk. With an act of brute strength and a giggle, she slid down the trunk in a corkscrew, knocking off three large boughs on the way down to the forest floor. Then she set out in the general direction she had last seen Hannibal.

* * *

Weslyn was lost. It would not been a trivial matter for landing; she had been thrown directly over a lake. The speed of the impact of the water would have definitely killed her. She had twisted so that her back was facing the ground, grabbed onto her cap, positioned her sniper towards the cliff, and fired.

Her sniper was modeled after the M874 Ballistic Shock Rifle, or the M8 as she called it, and had obscene recoil. She had learned how to deal with it over the years, and most of her training had gone into conditioning her accuracy. As a byproduct of using her rifle, her arms grew wiry and iron-hard, though they might not look it. So she was not surprised when she was blasted ten meters over, flying her over the actual forest. Now landing was a considerably easier.

Easier does not necessarily mean easy, and Weslyn's landing consisted of her flying through the tops of trees, breaking small branches along the way until she slowed to tolerable speeds. Nevertheless, she emerged with only small cuts and scrapes. And like that, she set off north.

* * *

Scylax crossed his arms and stared at Ozpin. "What is it?" Ozpin merely smiled and motioned to Glynda.

"You may be on parole, but it was Ozpin that put in a good word for you. You should be more respectful," she said. Scylax assumed a neutral face, devoid of emotion.

"Well?" he asked.

"We may not know the true limits of your abilities, and we want to test them. All of the official sources conflict in their assessments of your abilities. Your teammates are more than capable of protecting themselves, and will most likely join together and work as a unit. You are the outlier. We want to test you more selectively."

"I'm going to assume that you were lying," Scylax said, looking at Ozpin, "and that the forest is actually full of Grimm. You used that as an excuse to not arouse suspicion. But that's not my real question. Why do you need to know the extent of my abilities now? I'm sure that they would become more apparent in the next few weeks or so."

"In short, we don't trust you. I may have put in a good word for you, but that's simply because I know the circumstances of the Nebulon incident."

At this, Scylax grinned. "Very clever of you, to put me on a team with that Liatora kid."

Before Ozpin could reply, the platform shot Scylax into the air.

* * *

Weslyn didn't realize she was surrounded until she saw the eyes. Her ultra sensitive ears hadn't even picked anything up. She had just entered a clearing and sprinted to the middle of it. Beowolves had very bright, red eyes, which often gave them away at night. Unfortunately, she had trouble seeing the light with the midday sun shining bright above. Just as she noticed the eyes for the first time, she heard the howls.

* * *

Diana heard a howl in the distance, and felt her blood turned to ice. She recognized the howl of a Beowulf anywhere. Seconds later, she heard sniper shots. She ran toward the sound as fast as her legs could carry her.

Hannibal hadn't heard the howl, but he certainly heard the shots. He had just cleaved an Ursa in half, and sheathed his greatsword. He too took off running the in the general direction.

* * *

Weslyn was scared. If Ozpin was being truthful about the forest being depleted, then every Beowulf within five miles was circling around her. Several were already dead around her; her sniper was still as accurate as it was deadly. If she was forced into hand-to-hand combat though, she knew she would die quickly. She had counted hundreds of them.

Weslyn spun as she heard the sound of a movement. Three Beowolves were charging her from the side. _Strange_ , she thought, as she methodically put a round into each of their skulls. _They aren't working as a team like a regular pack._ Could it be that multiple packs had happened to chance upon her?

Once again, hearing the sound of movement, she pivoted to her left and shot a particularly large Beowulf in the head twice. It crushed two others that happened to be standing behind it. Weslyn checked her ammo. Five rounds left in the magazine, with eight more magazines in her vest. Weslyn had already used one magazine. She would just have to survive until either someone found her, or she ran out of ammo. She hoped for the former.

* * *

Diana was getting more concerned by the second. There were many howls and baying in front of her, signaling a huge pack. While she never considered stopping, she simply wondered how much use she would actually be when she arrived.

* * *

 _I'm in trouble._

Understatement of the century. Weslyn had had her sniper knocked from her hands by a Beowulf. It was dead now, lying on her chest and pinning her to the ground. She had shot it just as it had pounced, killing it but trapping herself in the process. The pack was closing in, and Weslyn was trying in vain to push the beast's body off of her while it disintegrated seemingly far too slowly. She saw in her peripheral vision Diana, and heard her panting from a long run. Drawing her scythes, she seemed ready to jump into the fray and fight off the Beowolves.

Weslyn didn't have a chance.

That was until Scylax landed in the middle of the clearing.

He seemed to appear out of nowhere. Duel knives with black, triangle-shaped blades, seemed to leap from his belt to his hands as he quickly slashed at the Beowolves around him. Weslyn was stunned. Scylax's hands actually _blurred_. She had never seen that sort of speed before.

The pack quickly backed off with the entrance of this new arrival. Already, six Beowolves lay dead at his feet, and he didn't even seem winded. Their collective decaying flecks of essence gave him the look that his flapping cloak was disintegrating off of his body.

Diana leapt into the clearing with them, and pushed the dead Beowolf's body off of Weslyn. She quickly retrieved her sniper lying a few meters away, and the trio quickly to face the pack that surrounded them. Weslyn quickly picked up her cap and put it on, looking to see if Scylax had noticed. He had not.

"Look for the largest one. There are way too many of them up front, so he's definitely hiding behind the pack," Scylax said, making eye contact with Weslyn, then Diana. Seeing the puzzled look on their faces, he explained. "When Beowolves get packs this large, they don't behave like regular wolves. They send smaller and weaker contingents after dangerous prey to weed out the weakest of the group. But the largest Beowulf will probably stay away from any physical danger. Kill him, and the pack will dissolve into chaos."

Scylax turned and darted toward a group of five charging Beowolves. He ducked underneath the first one's charge and spun around to slice its midsection. The second he sliced its neck as he sidestepped it. The third and fourth tried to slow down to run back, but were quickly cut down. The fifth met a similar fate. He returned to the two.

"Find the Packmaster!" he said, in a calm but firm tone, as Weslyn practically had to physically pulled her jaw off the ground. "Look for the largest. Diana and I will fend them off."

He and Diana turned toward a larger group of a dozen approaching wolves, and Diana finally felt the glee of being in combat again.

Finally Weslyn, with her sharp eyes, spotted him. Though he was slinking around, the Packmaster was huge, even for a Beowulf. Easily thrice the size of a grown man, he was down on all fours, where a strange and very sharp-looking bony growth was sprouting from his back. In fact, this bony armor seemed to cover its entire body. Though he was hiding behind two ranks of Beowolves, he promised danger. Weslyn wasn't even sure her sniper could pierce its armor.

"There!" she pointed, and before Diana even fully turned around to look, Scylax was pulling his strange knives out of the Packmaster's exposed throat and sprinting towards the middle of the clearing.

"We have to get away from here," he said. "This place will turn into complete anarchy any second now."

As Scylax led them towards a nearby tree, he looked back to assess Diana and Weslyn. While they had no real emotion on their faces, he could see hints of amazement and even fear in their eyes. He sighed and looked forward, only to body slam Hannibal's chest.

* * *

Chapter 6: Far Too Many Questions

As Scylax groaned and picked himself up, Hannibal assessed the faces of those in front of him. Weslyn looked haggard and cut up, Diana looked out of shape, and Scylax was his standard emotionless self.

"We have to get out of here," Scylax croaked, still rubbing his upper chest. "The pack should be in anarchy, and we shouldn't be anywhere near when that happens."

Hannibal started to protest, to demand what was going on, but he looked Diana in the eye and came to a conclusion. There would be time later. Now was the moment to move.

* * *

When they were safely a ways away from the howling and crying of the Beowolves, Scylax stopped the group at a nearby stream. He went to the stream and drank from his hands. When he was finished, he took of his cloak off. He unsheathed his knives, inspecting them, and then cleaned the blood from the fight off. He was wearing a skintight combat tunic beneath his cloak, and his slight build became even more apparent to those watching. His knives were like right triangles, with a black, non-reflective surface. As he turned around, he saw Diana talking with Hannibal as she explained what was happening. Weslyn was looking at him. Her brown eyes stared imploringly on. Scylax realized she was trying to say something.

* * *

As the group stopped for a rest by the stream, Weslyn reviewed what had happened in the past 20 minutes. The minutes had seemed like hours. Weslyn had never before heard, much less seen, the sort of speed that Scylax had demonstrated.

Regular beings looked upon Hunters with awe and admiration at their skill and speed in which they fight. Weslyn had gotten used to the speed and strength of those around her, such as Diana's amazing reflexes. But this sort of speed was completely alien even to her.

She had a hunch that it may have something to do with his Semblance, but she really didn't know. Scylax seemed to be full of unknowns and mysteries.

Weslyn's ears twitched in surprise when she realized that Scylax was looking straight at her. His black tunic seemed to be made of a darker material than his cloak, and had no sort of camouflage pattern. The darkness in his tunic contrasted drastically with his strangely pale skin. His small form was even more clearly demonstrated without his cloak. While actually medium height, Scylax had an unexpected thin body. But his sleeves ended at his elbows, and Weslyn could see the same wiry strength in his arms similar to her own.

Weslyn finally forced words out of her mouth. "How did you move that fast?" she asked. "I've never seen that kind of speed."

Scylax sighed. He went to pick up his cloak and hung it on a nearby bough. Then he leaned back against a tree, sitting next to Weslyn.

"Not right now. Do those ears of your work?" Scylax asked in his regular cool, emotionless tone.

"I'm sorry. My ears?" Weslyn said defensively.

"Yes, your ears. Or, more precisely, your second pair."

Weslyn paled and reflexively pulled her cap down tighter. "How did you know?"

"I used to know a fauna who hid his ears underneath a cap, similar to what you do. They twitched constantly. I recognized the movement beneath yours, so I assumed something to that extent." Weslyn took her cap off, exposing her second pair of ears that resembled that of a fox.

"It appears I was right."

"So how well do they work?" he continued. "I'm just trying to put together how you were surrounded by such a large pack."

"It wasn't like I wasn't paying attention…" Her ears drooped as Weslyn tried to remember what she was doing before she walked into the clearing. The group had been chucked off the hill at exactly 11:00 in the morning. With her back to the easily visible cliff, and with knowledge that the cliff faced north, she had set off. She did remember hearing some noises here and there, but with her very sensitive ears she simply assumed that they were small animals moving in the brush, or possibly leaves rubbing together.

"It's not that at all," Scylax assured. "Though those Beowolves were acting similar to those I've encountered before, there's just too many unknowns for me to decide why the went after you in such a stupid location."

Weslyn jerked up as she remembered something. "Where did you come from? You seemed to just appear in the middle of the clearing. Were you following me?"

Scylax looked up, and Weslyn was struck at how his eyes seemed to blend into the surrounding greenery. _No wonder_ , she thought. _It is called Emerald Forest, after all_.

"My platform malfunctioned, and wouldn't activate. Ozpin happened reactivate it at a very inconvenient time, as well."

Weslyn looked on for any sort of elaboration, but didn't get any. Scylax suddenly stood up and got his cloak off the tree. With a flourish of graceful and practiced motion, he dawned the cloak and pulled his hood down.

Scylax addressed the entire group. "We need to go. When we're safe, you can ask all the questions you want." He turned around and started walking north. He continued talking without turning around.

"But don't always expect answers."

* * *

Chapter 7: As Far As I Can Throw You

Hannibal still felt out of the loop. He heard how Diana had described Scylax's speed, and Weslyn's brush with death. He could almost believe it, but Hannibal saw himself as a more skeptical lad. Time would tell if her worlds were true. He helped Diana up from the tree the two had been leaning on, and they joined Scylax and Weslyn.

* * *

Diana was feeling less than useless right now. She had arrived at the clearing ridiculously winded. She was sure that if Scylax hadn't practically materialized in the middle of the clearing, Weslyn would be dead right now. For all of her speed, it seemed like she was drunkenly crawling compared to Scylax's speed and finesse. Diana could fight at speeds that had awed her battle instructors. She had seen things that Weslyn probably hadn't. What might have looked like Scylax's teleportation was actual _movement_ , so fast that even Weslyn's eyes, keen and perceptive as they were, couldn't even see him. And the finesse and grace he had while moving; it was like time stood still.

He hadn't even looked winded.

Scylax could simply be putting up a front, for all she knew. But Diana and the group had bigger problems to worry about now.

* * *

Weslyn heard something seconds before she saw Scylax visibly stiffen in front of her. It was a raspy, dry noise, not unlike the rustling of leaves in the wind. A faint clicking noise accompanied that sound.

Scylax motioned them all down. Hannibal was already low to the ground, and moved the group towards a half-hedge formed by interlocking bushes. Weslyn started to ask what was happening, but got nothing but a shush from both the boys. Diana had a rare grim look on her face.

A crashing sound, like a tree being carelessly shoved over, was the only other warning the group got of the Deathstalker's arrival as it charged by the group.

It's bone-white exoskeleton betrayed the thickness of the its armor. The Deathstalker appeared to be young, with few scars and all of its ten eyes. Basically a giant scorpion, the Deathstalker's stinger glowed a sort of sickly orange, and for some reason appeared very, very angry.

Even for experienced Hunters, a Deathstalker's presence promised death.

"If we don't have to fight it, we won't," Scylax whispered to Weslyn. "Try not to attract its attention."

Then he was gone.

Weslyn was stunned. One second he was whispering in her ear, and the next he disappeared. Weslyn glanced around but could see no sign of him. When she did didn't find a trace, she turned and followed Diana and Hannibal as they were slowly creeping past the Deathstalker.

* * *

Scylax watched the group slowly creep through the underbrush from the upper boughs a nearby tree. If they happened to catch the Deathstalker's attention, he would attempt to distract it in an effort for them to get away.

Of course, he could outright kill it now; it appeared to be a very young Deathstalker. But he had not missed the camera embedded in its tail.

Why was Ozpin going through this much trouble?

* * *

Hannibal didn't show it, but he was freaking out. His only experience with Deathstalkers came from his time in Signal's fighting school, and even with it fully restrained and controlled by the adept instructors, he had been terrified.

Being this close to it only heightened his sense of terror. If he started freaking out now, Hannibal wasn't sure the girls would stop to help him. Weslyn, only recently exposed to the existence of the Deathstalker, seemed to be trying to not pass out. She had the opportunity to train to fight against Deathstalkers, but assumed she didn't need it. Diana, who had actually had the experience of fighting a Deathstalker, was trying to help Weslyn move faster. The grim look on her face had returned.

Scylax was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Weslyn finally stood up and walked like a normal person. Her back was killing her. The trio had been crouching around in the bush for what seemed like hours, but was probably only about twenty minutes. The other two were in similar condition; Diana had actually sat down to fully stretch her legs. After the trio had removed their various cramps, they set off north.

Diana didn't notice Scylax until he was walking right next to her. The three had had a minor deliberation if they should continue without Scylax, and had finally started walking north. Literally seconds later, Diana brushed her hand against a sort of rough surface. She jumped back as she saw cold emerald eyes staring back at her. "Scylax? Where the hell did you come from?" she yelled. Hannibal took a step back in surprise. He too had not seen Scylax appear. But upon inspecting the cloak a little more closely, he could see the grey changing and molding, creating an illusion of nothingness. Hannibal recognized it immediately. "Where did you get that cloak? That's military grade camouflage!"

Scylax hung his head and grinned to himself. _I did say they could ask questions, did I not?_ He looked up. "Once again, ask your questions when we are done. But to explain, I had sneaked to the other side of the Deathstalker. I was prepared to lure it away if it had seen you three." No one could really argue with that, so they continued on.

The group did not encounter much else on their way to the way to the temple, except a few very surprised Ursa. Needless to say, they did not last long.

The field around them opened up into a clearing, and there it was. It was made of white stone bricks, covered in moss. It was vaguely shaped like a circle. There were several pedestals all around the circle, but only four held anything. The items on the pedestals were as strange as the temple. A solid emerald, a piece of amber, a large piece of quartz, and a small ingot of what they could only assume to be steel.

Scylax snatched up the emerald, Weslyn the amber, Diana the quartz, and finally Hannibal the ingot.

When they turned around, the Deathstalker was standing behind them.

* * *

Ozpin chuckled to himself and adjusted his footing. This was sure to be an interesting situation, and he did not want to miss out on it. He had not even tried to direct the Deathstalker to intercept the team. What confused him was upon the group's first encounter, he had not seen Scylax. Even the external cameras didn't pick him up. _No matter_ , he thought. _He always seemed to be a loner. Maybe he had a conflict with the team._ It was unfortunate; the cameras that were placed along the way could only see so much. _Still, though_. He looked at Glynda, and their eyes met.

They could both feel something quite wasn't right about that strange boy in the cloak.

* * *

"GO!"

As it had happened, Hannibal had actually taken the course on fighting these beats. They had devised a plan to fight it if the Deathstalker ever reared its tail anywhere near them again.

The group split into pairs, Hannibal with Scylax and Weslyn with Diana. Hannibal and Scylax charged the Deathstalker directly, while the two girls came around on either side. Weslyn set up her sniper and started shooting for its eyes. Diana had wrapped her chain scythes around its tail, and was trying to hack off its stinger. Hannibal was dealing with the claws the only way he knew how; he had already cleaved one of them off. Scylax had already taken off two legs with his strange knives; the armor seemed to split between the two black blades. He swung around its underside and dragged his knives across its exposed underbelly.

Needless to say, the Deathstalker didn't last long.

After nearly two minutes of this carnage, the Deathstalker gave a long hiss, clicked its remaining claw, and collapsed. All ten of its eyes were gone. Its stinger was thrashing on the ground, and it had only six legs remaining. The fight had been altogether anticlimactic. The group picked themselves up; they had not escaped the fight unscathed. Diana was bashed directly in the face with a swipe of the beast's tail. Weslyn had almost been crushed from a charge. Hannibal had been knocked to the ground multiple times by the claws. Only Scylax seemed to have escaped unharmed. The group picked up their relics and headed south, back towards the cliff.

With the Deathstalker gone, a lot of the group's tension seemed to go with it. Weslyn was joking and laughing with Diana. Hannibal was grinning and bragging about his sword, how it had cleaved one of the claws off in a single strike. Only Scylax wasn't joking. He pulled his hood over his head once more and surveyed their surroundings. The fight was altogether far too easy. It may have been that he was not used to working with a team, but Scylax was the skeptical type. He suspected another trick. Maybe the pack would come back. Maybe a Nevermore would show up, blasting the group with its razor sharp feathers. Maybe a King Taijitus would appear from nowhere an eat them all. Who knew?

It paid to be vigilant.

* * *

Glynda was adamant. "He must be a faunas. No human would have that sort of speed. I can't even begin to imagine what a human body would face when moving at that sort of speed. And look at him! He's staring into dark patches in the forest like they're nothing! Unless he has incredibly natural night vision, he has to be a faunas!" Ozpin was not convinced. "It has to do with his Semblance. There's no way even faunas can move that fast."

Ozpin groaned in frustration, tempted to throw his Scroll over the cliff. The tablet was keeping watch on all of the cameras in the forest, and carefully documented the progression of the team.

There was so little they knew about Scylax for sure. He had risked the life of three students to try and assess Scylax's skill. Even if they were incredibly capable Hunters and Huntresses in training, it went against his moral code. The end did not justify the means. That's a phrase he himself had used.

He would apologize to them all later, and would not try something like this again. It was foolhardy and stupid. He was known for his patience, wasn't he? _What's gotten into me?_ Unfortunately, he knew all too well. His insane need for information had pushed him over the edge. Ozpin was determined not to let it happen again.

He composed himself and examined the cameras again. The pack was still going insane. Already, large groups had split from the original horde. Whether they meant to find the four or to simply journey in a direction was unknown to him. There was no sign of a King Taijitus that was known to patrol around this time of day.

Ozpin checked his watch. Nearly 2:30. This test had been unexpectedly short; it probably had something to do with the fact that only four out of the original sixteen were thrown into the Forest.

Ozpin readjusted his footing once again. The group was nearing the final leg of their route back to the cliff.

* * *

Scylax pulled his knives out of the back of the Beowulf. He assumed that he pack was splitting, and that the anarchy would soon end as smaller packs established their own territories. He looked around. The other three were busy cleaning their weapons as they started to head back south again. There hadn't been much small talk over the past thirty minutes or so. Possibly, it was because the end was in sight. Everyone looked tense. It was always like that with people. The end of an ordeal was so close, so one expected everything to be thrown their way.

Scylax knew that while tension did heighten your senses, you had to be careful not to jump at a sound and bash your partner's skull in.

That being said, he had heard something in front of them.

Something big.

* * *

Chapter 8: Quoth The Raven, Nevermore

Weslyn had heard it too, and was starting to smell it. The smell could mean many things, but she assumed the worst.

A Nevermore.

There was a reason those giant terrifying birds got that name. One could assume it was it's flying ability, naturally making it dangerous to Hunters on the ground. One might guess it was the razor sharp feathers that grew on its wings, which it detached to fling at prey. But you would be wrong.

Nevermores were known for their resistance. To EVERYTHING. Physical attack, poison, electricity, even fire. Their skin was the only weak spot on their bodies. Their bones, while being hollow like all flying creatures, were unusually strong, and did not break easily. Though on their own, against a halfway decent group of Hunters, a Nevermore could be dealt with easily enough.

The smell coming up ahead signified a nest.

Nevermores often made large, communal nest. The nests were assembled out of local material (i.e., nearby tries and large stones) and the bones of enemies, no matter the species. In a large nest, up to twenty Nevermores could be present.

The group moved up cautiously, towards the sound of cracking trees and squawks of protest and frustration. A pair of Nevermores was trying to build a sort of nest, with large saplings and even two full-grown oaks.

"Ok. Diana and I will take the one on the front. Weslyn, you try to blind the bird on the right so Scylax can get in close," Hannibal said.

"Ok," Weslyn responded. Diana grinned. Scylax merely nodded.

"Try to get as close to them as you can. Their hearing isn't the greatest, but their eyesight is unparalleled," Scylax warned.

Moving in pairs, they all snuck within ten meters of their respective birds.

Hannibal motioned them forward. Weslyn had just sighted the right bird when its entire right wing came off. The Nevermore fell onto the ground, squawking in pain and confusion. Weslyn then saw Scylax slowly walking back to her.

Hannibal and Diana took the opportunity of the remaining and very confused Nevermore to slice off its legs. They regrouped in front of the two disintegrating corpses.

"Great job, everyone," Hannibal praised.

"I only wish I got to actually do something," Weslyn responded, letting a playful smile etch onto her face. "Scylax here hogged the fun for himself."

She looked at Scylax only to notice something strange. His hood was pulled back, and his emerald green eyes were fuzzy and out of focus.

They only noticed the blood on his stomach when he collapsed.

Weslyn, a certified medic, barely caught him, and started stripping off his coat and rolling him on his back. Diana and Hannibal crowed around. Scylax had passed out and was barely breathing. Weslyn yanked off his tunic, noting the wiry, iron hard muscle concealed beneath his small frame, with his chest crisscrossed with strange scars. She saw the problem immediately.

A feather had lodged itself halfway into his abdomen.

Weslyn had no idea how Scylax was still alive. The feather, with its razor sharp edges, probably destroyed his internal organs. She knew that removing the feather could make the wound a lot worse, and she doubted her ability to even slow the bleeding. She had too, though. Nevermore feathers contained high amounts of harmful minerals like lead and silicon, things that should not be in the bloodstream. The feather was half a meter long.

"Hannibal! Take the feather out!" Weslyn commanded.

"But won't it make the wound worse?"

"I don't care! We can't leave it in. Now, take it out! NOW!"

Hannibal, feeling a little queasy, yanked the feather out and flung it to the side. His thick, leather gloves stopped the feather from cutting his hands. Scylax groaned in pain and coughed up blood, a surefire sign of internal bleeding.

Weslyn went to try to bandage the wound with a mini medical kit she kept on her at all times, ever since she took her medical classes. When she went to try to stem the flow of blood, but found something very intriguing.

The blood had stopped.

* * *

Diana's feeling of excitement was once again replaced with grim determination. Scylax, probably the fastest out of the four, had gotten a possible mortal injury. She would not let that happen to either Hannibal or Weslyn. A dark part of her mind felt good that it was Scylax and not either of her friends.

Diana had very little experience in the area of medical practice. She barely knew how to sterilize a paper cut. When she saw the blood pouring from Scylax's stomach wound, she thought she would be sick. She turned away and examined the relatively large clearing the group was stationed on the edge of.

Because of her unease around open wounds, she was the first to notice ten Nevermores approaching the group from across the clearing.

Hannibal should be terrified. In fact, when he first saw the second group of Nevermores hobbling towards the group, he felt his blood turn cold; his heart beat faster and adrenaline pumped through his veins. But then a sense of calm fell onto him. He knew his mission. He knew how to accomplish it. He would not leave a wounded man behind, even if that man were someone he couldn't quite trust. He had been trained as a soldier; now was his time to act like one.

"Diana! Stick to the outside of the clearing and try to get a bead on them. They won't be able to do much with your speed. Use the trees to your advantage."

"You got it!" Diana was clearly excited, but an unsurprising reaction to Hannibal.

"Weslyn, once you get Scylax stabilized, you need to come in and help. Take out their eyes and anything with exposed skin."

"Ok," Weslyn responded, as she tied a bandage around Scylax's waist, hoping to stop any more possible bleeding. His blood appeared to have clotted incredibly quickly, so she had promptly disinfected the wound and hoped for the best.

It was the only thing she could do for now.

* * *

 ** _AN: I hope that my huge use of lines did not annoy anyone. It was necessary, with the several jumps from character to character, and most upcoming chapters will probably not suffer the same misuse._**

 ** _Thanks for reading!_**


	4. Chapters 9-12

_"_ You shouldn't be surprised by now."

"At what? The unnecessary cliffhangers? I'm no longer excited at the thought of being excited!"

"And?"

"The overuse of black lines and jump cuts? Couldn't things be cleaned up a bit?"

"And?"

"It feels really rushed. Could you bring it down a notch and not trip over yourself?"

" _Aaaaaaand_?"

"It's okay."

"Prepare for more, then."

* * *

 _Black, tinged with green._

 _Fast. Faster. Unable to be seen._

 _Unable to be understood._

 _Unable to understand._

 _Fumbling in ignorance, killing without mercy, destruction without care._

 _Destruction of property. Destruction of hearts._

 _Destruction of lives._

 _Such beautiful chaos._

 _None of it worth it._

 _I close her eyes and turn, facing her killer._

 **-Excerpt from the Chronicle, Page 39**

* * *

Chapter 9: Semblance Through Action

Hannibal yelled incoherently as he charged the group of Nevermores. Eight of them squawked and took to the skies in an attempt to escape Hannibal. One was suddenly brought down as Diana jumped from the cover of the trees and onto its back. She roped her scythes around its neck and decapitated it. A second went down with a large gash in its breast, curtsey of Hannibal. A third actually made it off the ground, but went down to duel retorts of Weslyn's rifle. Missing both eyes.

That left seven Nevermores. Three of them, frightened of the quick deaths of their comrades, fled back to the safety of the nest. Now the number was down to four. Four large, hungry, airborne, and very pissed off birds. One dived down at Diana, who jumped backwards out of the exposed clearing and into the nearby boughs of a tree. A second tried to swipe and Hannibal, who managed to cut off a toe on one of the beast's talons. It screeched in pain and wheeled away. A third dived down at Scylax. Weslyn, preoccupied with the fourth, and consequently largest, didn't notice Scylax was being dragged away until he started groaning in pain.

Scylax was confused. He felt lightheaded; there was a large, burning pain that spread across his lower abdomen. He was being dragged by something large; he heard gunshots and incoherent yelling. He was lifted into the air for a second. A sound like a blade striking stone; an angry squawk. He felt himself fall. Then there was nothing but pain, and he passed out again.

Hannibal carried Scylax in a fireman's carry. He was putting his training to good use. His father would be proud.

Hannibal hadn't seen the wound on Scylax's stomach very clearly. He knew it was bad; the boy had passed out from what he assumed was pain. That didn't matter; this was the most effective way to carry him as the group made their way to better cover.

Weslyn was protesting the entire way as the three made their way west, trying to head around the nest and shake off their pursuers. She was very worried about the state of the wound. While it was bandaged and adequately covered, Weslyn was worried it would open again. After about a minute or two of finicky adjustments to the way Hannibal held Scylax, she stopped talking and watched the overhead for their avian pursuers.

* * *

Diana was strangely excited. No, excited wasn't the word.

She was ecstatic.

It took a few minutes for her to realize why. She was being useful. She had taken down two Nevermores, had fought a Deathstalker, had noticed and alerted the team of the approaching group of birds. It was good to be back into the fight. Too long at Signal she had been held back from fighting Grimm. Dueling other students had been fun, but they had gotten boring.

Especially when she accidentally took things too far.

There had been a fair share of injuries; this was fighting. Injuries, whether accidental or purposeful, were expected. But Diana had gone beyond bruises and cuts and bloody noses.

She broke bones.

It was if a blood rage settled over her when she fought. She could not stop fighting until her enemy had been trashed, scrubbed, and absolutely obliterated before her.

She had been worried when Hannibal and Weslyn had learned about her fighting style. They seemed to accept it; in fact, when she learned of Hannibal's passive Semblance, she had seen their friendship as fate. Hannibal's Semblance, at least a passive side effect, was what made him an amazing leader.

He felt no fear.

He was sometimes pathetically silly when it came to fearing things like certain insects and snakes. Diana smiled at the thought of the slithery reptiles. Now _that_ was a funny episode. But whenever he was in battle, outmatched against multiple opponents, crippled from exhaustion and pain, he would never feel fear. He could think logically, clearheadedly, and always seemed to make the best decisions. In this state of mind, he felt no emotion, no remorse, no dismay.

It wasn't that he performed well under stress: he didn't FEEL stress.

It was another reason that she loved him. He kept her in check.

Diana smiled as the group came across a small pack of Beowolves.

Yes, this has been a fun day.

* * *

Hannibal was concerned.

Not the sort of concern that makes people insane with worry. Just another thing to note down in the growing list of concerns in his head. First- Scylax was bleeding again. His blood, which was strangely lukewarm as it ran down it back and neck, was sticky and annoying. Second- the Beowolves were becoming more frequent. The group had trekked enough distance from the Nevermore nest for the birds to finally go away, and Hannibal directed them back towards the cliff. Third- Diana was getting her blood rage up. He had seen the symptoms before. If she really got into it and activated her Semblance, Diana could end up hurting her own teammates with those flashing scythes of hers. Even Hannibal couldn't match her speed if she went berserk.

After he had mentally assembled this list, he compartmentalized. One thing at a time. First- the group should stop and Scylax should be carried more carefully. His wound was still bleeding, and probably needed to be disinfected again. The bandage Weslyn had tied around his abdomen was working well, but it would only do so for so long. Second- Coordinate Diana and Weslyn to fend off any Beowolves that come close. Third.

Really, there was no option for third except run and pray.

* * *

Weslyn checked her ammo again. Only five magazines left, and three bullets left in her current one. She ejected the mag, and slapped a fresh one in its place. No matter. The group was quickly nearing the cliff, and the Nevermores hadn't been seen in twenty minutes. It looked like they were going to make it. She looked fearfully at Scylax's still frame, being carried by Hannibal.

Weslyn was terrified for Scylax. She didn't know what was going to happen for him in the end. A normal person would be dead with the sort of internal damage the feather had done to him. And yet here he was, bleeding that strangely lukewarm blood, holding onto the thinning thread rope that was his life.

She knew something, though. Something that she still didn't know comforted or terrified her.

Scylax was not human.

Hannibal could see the cliff edge. The group had stopped before after a fight with a rather large fight with a group of Beowolves and Ursa. The big bears looked demonic under the darkness of the trees. Hannibal actually had to put Scylax down; over fifteen Beowolves had attacked the group. Figuring that this was a better time than later, Weslyn reapplied disinfectant and a new bandage to Scylax's wound, and the group carried on.

* * *

Ozpin had just called the school's medical staff to the cliff. They were always on standby for tests like this, and they arrived quickly. Ozpin was worried though. Scylax had lost a lot of blood, if the cameras were to be believed. All anyone could do now was hope that the group had enough resolve to carry Scylax up the cliff.

* * *

Surrounding the cliff edge were the ruins of some sort of stone structure, similar to that of the temple. A huge chasm was all that was left between the group and the cliff. While the bridges across did look sturdy, everyone was tense. This was the perfect place for an ambush.

Indeed it was. When the group was halfway across a central bridge about twenty meters long, two groups of Beowolves, each group containing around a dozen Beowolves each, appeared at each side of the bridge, effectively trapping the team.

Hannibal didn't even need to tell either of the girls. In an act of extreme speed and balance, Diana sprinted along the guardrails of the bridge towards the group in front of the group, scythes flashing white as they reflected the afternoon sun. Weslyn dropped to one knee and brought her rifle around, its retorts seemingly shaking the bridge.

All Hannibal could do was watch. He didn't trust the bridge enough to lay Scylax down, and the girls seemed to have the situation under control anyway.

Diana jumped into the fray, her scythes spinning, and her blood rage up. Her Semblance activated as well; her eyes turned red as fire. She was impervious to damage, the Beowolves' claws and teeth simply reflected off her skin, her aura in a perfect, invulnerable state. She slashed and around her the wolves' still bodies fell.

Weslyn was using the opposite group as target practice. Picking them off one by one as they neared her, she checked her magazine. Two shots. Perfect. Firing two shots into the remaining four Beowolves, bringing one down, she jumped into the air. Her sniper transformed into a glaive, with a long, curved blade. Slashing down at the midsection of the first two Beowolves, who were caught completely by surprise. She cleaved one in half and dashed back as the pack overcame its confusion. One wolf charged her. She dragged the blade across the bridge of a wolf's nose, and used its forward momentum to shove the wolf off the bridge. It fell with a yelp. The remaining uninjured Beowolves looked at their fallen comrades, and decided against charging this scary spear-wielding human again. They slinked across the bridge in defeat. Weslyn turned around to see that Hannibal was only a two meters behind her, ready to charge the wolves if need be. The thought made her terrified and exhausted heart leap with joy, seeing someone finally backing her up. All these years of relying on herself, and the thought of fighting as a team again made her almost forget her aching muscles and strained lungs.

Almost.

* * *

Ozpin nearly yelled with joy as Hannibal's head appeared at the edge of the cliff, followed quickly by Diana's and Weslyn's. Scylax's body was being carried between Weslyn and Diana, and was quickly rushed off to the medics. Hannibal, his strength finally gone, collapsed to the ground. He was covered in bruises, cuts, and general scrapes, as his aura had weakened considerably. His muscles ached, and he yearned to shower and sleep. He closed his eyes and stretched. When he opened them, he found Ozpin standing over him, his hand held out. Hannibal took it and was led to a waiting car that took the three new Beacon students to the grand auditorium.

* * *

Chapter 10: Fool Me Once

The group was called to the stage, accompanied with applause from the crowd.

"Hannibal Liatora, Diana Vikat, Weslyn Brunneis, and unfortunately absent Scylax Grendel. The four of you survived one of the most brutal initiation processes that I have ever seen here in my time at Beacon. From this day forward you will work together as Team SHDW, led by Hannibal Liatora."

The crowd applauded again, and as the team exited the stage, they heard Ozpin finish the ceremony. "Thank you all who have come out here to see these excellent Hunters and Huntresses in training. From today's results alone, I can comfortably say that this year is shaping up to be an interesting one."

* * *

The dorm master, an older student, led the group to their dorms. Teams stayed in large rooms together, regardless of gender. The three walked into their room with mild excitement, which was quickly dispelled. The room was threadbare, covered in white and overly cheerful wallpaper, with four beds and their luggage strewn around the room. Diana noted that Scylax had very little luggage, just a small black bag on his bed. The team, after their exhaustive ordeal, could not care less for the moment. They were asleep as soon as they hit their beds.

* * *

Hannibal didn't sleep in.

At least, according to his team. The group woke up at relatively the same time. On Hannibal's clock, it was normal time. But on everyone else's, they were going to be late for their first class. They rushed to change into school uniforms, and then sprinted from the dorms to the main building, where their first class was being held by Professor Peter Port.

Professor Port looked at the three students filing into his classroom thirty minutes after it had started. He would cut them some slack- the group had proven themselves to be quite capable Hunters and Huntresses. All the professors and other teachers in Beacon had individually reviewed the Initiation tapes. He had noted how Hannibal had carried Scylax all the way from the Nevermore's nest and even up Beacon Cliff. He sighed and motioned them to their seats, and continued his lecture.

Halfway into the lecture, things got interesting.

"A true Huntsman must be honorable. A true Huntsman must be dependable. A true Huntsman must be strategic, well educated, and wise. So, who among you believes themselves to harbor these traits?"

No one stood up. His class of twenty or so students didn't make a sound. They had all seen the shaking cage, growling in the corner.

Actually, not everyone. Not Team SHDW.

"Can I have any volunteers for a demonstration? Anyone at all?"

No one moved.

"Fine. Ms. Vikat?"

Diana looked up in surprise. She didn't do very well in lecture settings; it tended to put her to sleep, no matter how rested she was before the start. Already the sort of droopiness that characterized her reaction was setting in. She took a closer look at the Professor. The man, looking around his late fifties, had a grey, bushy mustache that complemented his similarly bushy and colored hair. He was wearing a burgundy suit with golden pins, and was slightly overweight. He was motioning to her, and Diana finally comprehended his words.

"Of course, sir." She stood up and took position as Professor Port took his position next to the bucking cage, the creature inside now terribly excited. Her scythes were held at the ready in a backwards grip; she actually heard some students gasp as they reflected light off their perfectly silver surface.

Professor Port opened the cage, and the Boarbatusk leapt out into the classroom.

A Boarbatusk resembled a real boar, excluding the fact that it had an extra set of tusks, four eyes, and had a bony white armor that covered nearly its entire body, except its very lightly armored underbelly. It grunted and eyed up Diana.

Then it charged.

* * *

Hannibal was surprised that Diana had been selected. Not that he really minded. Or Diana had either. He had seen her almost hidden smirk of delight as the Boarbatusk charged her. Her eyes changed from violet purple to crimson red as she activated her Semblance.

In seconds it was over. She kicked out with her foot, connecting with its forehead, as she placed her scythes between the twin tusks of the still charging boar. The air seemed to shake with the impact. It stopped its charge with a frustrated squeal. That squeal turned to rage as she loped off its tusks, and then to pain as she flipped it on its back.

Diana proceeded to bisect it.

She took a bow in front of the stunned professor, and walked back to her seat. She was yawning as she sat down.

Class proved to be uneventful for the rest of the period.

* * *

"You didn't need to be so showy about it," Hannibal said to Diana. "We already have kids looking at us as the only group with someone injured enough to go to the infirmary."

"All the more reason for us to show off," Diana responded with a cheerful grin.

"Shouldn't we visit Scylax?" Weslyn suggested. Not much else was going on in their hour-long free period.

"I can't see a reason not to. As his leader, I am responsible for anyone on my team. Besides, I didn't lug him out of that forest for nothing."  
"I suppose I'll tag along then," Diana said.

* * *

"He isn't exactly taking visitors right now," the nurse said cautiously.

"Why not?" Weslyn questioned. "We are the group that managed to pull his injured ass out of the Emerald Forest. I think out of anyone we should be given the right to at least visit him."

The nurse sighed heavily and hung her head, thinking. She suddenly stood up and motioned them on. Weslyn grinned at Hannibal and Diana as the group was led to a nearby room.

"He might be sleeping right now. We've had to keep him under sedation for the pain. I'll let you three consider the risk of trying to wake him up in his state."

"What happened?" Diana asked as she sat down in a chair at the back of the relatively small room. Scylax was lying in a bed with most of his midsection bandaged. He had an IV in his arm, and was passed out underneath a comfortable-looking blanket.

"Well, he sort of punched the doctor in the face. His eyes…. Well, never mind. Just be careful if you decide to wake him. I'll be at the front desk if you need anything."

With that ominous warning, she left the room.

"Don't worry," Scylax said, sitting up in his bed and startling the three. "I wasn't asleep. Drugs do weird things to me, especially if the person giving the dosage doesn't know-" He cut off suddenly. "Never mind. Besides, I need to be awake to…um…. thank you three." He started blushing suddenly, and hung his head. "So… thank you." He refused to meet their eyes.

"Well, you're welcome. Can't have a team member dying on the first day," Hannibal responded in a good-natured tone. He knew all too well what Scylax was going through. It must've be a pain to feel like a dead weight to a team, especially after getting injured. Hannibal himself had experienced it a few times in training.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to start," Weslyn began. Instantly, Scylax looked back up, with his usual blank face one again. "I was trying to bandage you after we took the feather out, and a sort of layer of skin had formed over the wound. It had stopped bleeding and everything. Well, I guess I should be asking, how are you not dead right now?"

Up until that moment, Scylax had been holding his blanket around his shoulders as he sat up. He was wearing nothing but a medical gown. He removed his blanket and pushed the gown down to his waist. Everyone recoiled in surprise. His chest was covered in strange, white scars of alternating depths on his chest and stomach they had failed to notice when Weslyn was bandaging him.

Almost even stranger, he had no nipples.

"None of these are from any sort of medical operation. My body seems to have a bit of a regenerative ability, though I'm sure that without your medical help it would have taken much longer for me to heal. Next question."

Ignoring the fact that his answer sponsored a whole new set of questions, Diana quickly spoke. "What do you call your knives?"

Scylax seemed a little taken back, or at least it appeared so on his regularly dead expression. "Tinge," he answered. Diana, awaiting further elaboration, naturally got none.

"Does your speed come from your Semblance?" asked Hannibal. "Yes," replied Scylax. Once again, no more detail than necessary. Hannibal felt like he was getting details rather than full answers. Weslyn piped up again.

"Are you human?"

For the first time since Hannibal met him, Scylax actually grinned. Nothing obvious. Just a slight curving of the edges of his mouth. Hannibal almost missed it.

The boy with the emerald eye shrugged his shoulders in doubt. The three waited for an explanation, a comment, _anything,_ but their only answer was silence.

* * *

The nurse had come in a second later and ushered the group out. The doctor was off taking a break when she let them in; he would be back any second. As Weslyn was leaving, she looked back at Scylax. He had returned to his regular deadpan expression, showing no emotion, betraying no thought. Then the door closed and the nervous nurse ushered her out of the medical ward.

"That was a suitably ambiguous answer for him. If he won't give us answers, then maybe Ozpin will," Weslyn said. "We need to be able to trust him, and it's obvious he doesn't trust us. And if he won't trust us, then I don't want him on the team."

"Yeah, I don't trust him as far as I can trust him to throw himself," Hannibal said.

"That makes no sense."

"That may have been the point. I'm not one for playing these little game that he so enjoys. If we can't trust him, we won't have him."

* * *

Contrary to the lecture of Professor Porter, Diana enjoyed Dr. Oobleck. History has always been something she has been interested in. She didn't know why, but whenever she could find a history book, she read it like she would never read again. To this day, Diana still did not know why she enjoyed the subject so much. But she did enjoy the teacher, who was still quickly darting around the room with his inhuman speed of his.

"In this class, we will be covering the Great War, the Faunas Right Revolution, and other such conflicts," he said, and then darted off to another part of the room, sipped his cup of coffee, and darted to another side. "We will begin with the Great War, a pivotal moment in our world's history."

Dr. Oobleck was a young man, with seemingly opaque round spectacles and messy green hair. He had a bit of a disheveled look, with a loose yellow tie and raised collar, a mismatching pair of shoes, one black and one brown. He was constantly darting around the room when he was lecturing, more often than not with a cup of coffee in his hand. He seemed to speak as fast as he moved.

"Unfortunately for today, we will not be covering any of these topics, and instead be discussing the purpose of learning history. So, class. Why do we learn history?"

 _Because we enjoy it_ , Diana heard herself saying. Instead, a more proper answer came from the back of the class, from a sand-colored kid she did not know the name of.

"Because we shouldn't repeat mistakes that have been made for us."

"Not exactly the point I was hoping someone would make, but it suffices. History has more mistakes collectively than anyone that has ever existed. Knowledge of these mistakes can almost be as important as hard learned lessons, if at the very least warnings. But there is far more to history than that. Knowledge of one's origin, culture, background, further understanding of actions, even predicting the future! There is so much to be learned from history."

The doctor stopped at his desk. He sipped his coffee once more before continuing.

"Now class, please remember the words I have said here today. History is as important as the present! Now, why should we study the Great War?" he continued.

* * *

Glynda was waiting for the class in the auditorium. Naturally, duels were something that got most fighters excited, as a way to show off their skills and achieve status within a group or as a whole. This would be amplified on the first day, so Glynda would have to watch who she chose.

"Welcome to the dueling class, where you as Hunters and Huntresses can see in a clearer way how you skills and studies are progressing in the realm of fighting. I'm going to assume that none of you know the tournament style rules that we have here. The tournament's rules operate around a participant aura. When your aura, or your manifestation of your soul, or life force, or whatever you kids call it these days, goes into the red, an official can call the match. But, if the match is close enough, a participant's aura can be completely depleted for a match to end. Needless to say, if your aura is completely depleted, you lose the match.

"Any questions? Good. And one last thing. Please no broken bones or other long-term injuries. As good as the medical services we have available here, any such injury could take time out of a student's regularly scheduled class time." She looked at Diana for a few seconds. "Please try to control yourselves."

"I have prearranged a few matches for you all that will take place during this week. If you have any problems with whom you will be fighting, please talk to me and we will work it out."

A large screen above the stage started scrolling with matches. _Hannibal Liatora versus Caer Dugo, Nequam Ostrum versus Labib Ramil, Weslyn Brunneis versus Aaryan Morea, Gabbro Malus vs. etc. etc_. Weslyn happened to note that Scylax's name was not on the list.

"While I have created these matches, after this week, the matches will be much more impromptu and some will even be student created. But today, we will be going over the finer points of tournament rules and regulations…"

* * *

Hannibal was surprised to see that their dorm room was tidied up, and everyone else's stuff was unpacked. He was more surprised to see Ozpin sitting on his bed, with his normal unzipped black suit over a buttoned up vest, with a dark green undershirt and similarly colored long pants. His shaded black spectacles contrasted sharply with his tousled white hair and complemented his black eyebrows. His brown eyes remained sharp and perceptive, giving you the feeling that Ozpin knew something you didn't. And in this case, he literally did.

"Please sit down," he said, motioning them to a Weslyn's bed. The three sat down and waited.

"I want to talk to you about Scylax."

* * *

Chapter 11: Fool Me Twice

"We don't know much about Scylax, his origin, his state of mind, or even his loyalties. That may lead you to question as to why he was even accepted into this school, so it's time you learn about the Nebulon Incident."

Ozpin glanced at Hannibal, who had shown no outward sign of recognition save for curled his hands into fists.

"Nebulon Industries was a steel working company located in many cities in Vacuo. One night, an armed man stormed into the main warehouse of Nebulon Industries, which was home to the office of its CEO, Brad Ferro, as well as a majority of the upper management for the company. Well, not so much as stormed. He more just seemed to appear in the building. It was there that the man killed Ferro, his guards, and half the workers in the warehouse, before leaving a cryptic message on the wall of Ferro's office, scrawled in the CEO's own blood: _Repent_ _._

"Many of those guards were part of Liatora Security, a security and bodyguard company run by Hannon Liatora. Hannibal's father."

Diana and Weslyn looked shocked. Of course they were. Not many knew of the Nebulon Incident. It was one of the biggest disasters for both Nebulon Industries and Liatora Security. Both companies wanted to keep it under wraps.

"The attacker wore all black, used duel knives that glowed green at the blades, and moved with speed that would give Dr. Oobleck a run for his money. His eyes were completely red and had no pupils.

"I'll give you three guesses as to who that was."

Hannibal knuckles were white with his anger. Diana and Weslyn didn't know what to say.

"You might wonder as to why this is reason for Scylax's enrollment. It's because the very next day, a body of a local crime lord alleged to be a member of the Black Rose was found, with the same cryptic message over his body. Over the course of many weeks, several bodies showed up across Mistral, Vale, and even Mantle. All high-ranking members in or associated with Black Rose. It became obvious that the Black Rose had wronged him in some way, and we connected it back to the Nebulon Industries, which was suspected of having dealings with the crime syndicate.

"Scylax singled-handedly took down over half of the leaders of Black Rose, as well as leading to the collapse of Nebulon Industries. He himself has been more effective than most every intelligence agency currently trying to destroy the syndicate.

"After killing the right hand man of the Black Rose's leader, he began jumping borders to get away from authorities. During these times, he actually befriended a few people. These people never really knew him. The only things they had in common were their descriptions of Scylax; he was very slow to trust, and very fast, mentally and physically. Eventually though, in Vacuo, he was captured by the VIIF. The agents involved in his arrest noted his compliance. Many of the agents had had encounters with him in the past, so it soon became obvious that he wasn't resisting. Scylax could try to escape anytime he wanted to, but he didn't. It is for those reasons, with a troubled past, and wasted energy, that I put in a good word for Scylax to enroll him in Shade Academy."

"But I heard from him that he graduated from Shade in seven days," Weslyn said.

"That's true. While he has not had any formal education, he has a sharp mind and good memory. He soaked up information easily. Unfortunately, he made no friends. He had no ties to Shade. His teachers reported him as being secluded, detached. He conversed only when asked. He even made a few enemies among the student body. He also has little to no social skills.

"His final day at Shade was when he defeated two battle instructors in a one versus two match.

"Shade didn't know what to do with him, so they sent Scylax to Vale, where he is now enrolled in Beacon."

Hannibal was staring at his feet. This boy had caused a company to collapse. He had nearly crippled his father. He had killed innocents. Hannibal thought back to the trek in Emerald Forest, the climb up the cliff with Scylax's body. He had _helped_ the son of a bitch that had nearly brought down his father's living dream. Hannibal didn't care what Scylax had done after, whether good or bad.

But he would pay.

"So, that's literally all we have on Scylax Grendel. He doesn't have citizenship in any nation, we know nothing about his parents, and we know him to be a strange sort of fauna. Any questions?"

Weslyn felt overwhelmed. So much information, so many memories hidden behind that deadpan look and emerald green eyes. She heard Ozpin continue.

"Because we know so little, and he has shared nothing with us, we hoped that you would help collect information." Ozpin looked off into the distance. "Who knows what dark memories lie behind that calm, quiet complexion?"

He turned back to them. "I imagine you went to visit him. He promised to answer questions. Did you get anything out of him?"

"His knives are called 'Tinge'," Diana said helpfully.

* * *

After Ozpin had left, the three sat or lay on their beds. There was so much information to process. It showed how little they truly knew about the boy with the cloak and the knives. Diana was concerned about Hannibal, who knew would not taken this revelation well. The team said nothing, and after a while got dressed and went to sleep.

The next day, Hannibal's rage subsided.

Slightly.

To manageable levels that allowed logical thinking.

There was far too much that anyone knew of Scylax for him to jump to conclusions. He would pass judgment with the full story, and only then. As he prepared for classes, Hannibal couldn't get the image out his head of his father weeping.

Weeping in despair.

* * *

Chapter 12: Pandora's Box

As the three walked out of Dr. Oobleck's class, the nurse that had snuck them into Scylax's room ran up to them. "Hello, is there a Weslyn in this class?" A look of recognition came over her face. "Oh, hello you three. Would you happen to know a Weslyn in your class?"

"That would be me," responded Weslyn with a hesitant tone. _What was this about?_

"Oh, that makes my job so much easier. This is your free period, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Scylax has asked for you."

* * *

As Weslyn walked up to Scylax's room, she thought about his possible reasons to call her to him. Specifically her. Apparently, that was stated multiple times by Scylax, stressing the importance of only Weslyn coming. Alone.

Of course, Diana and Hannibal protested, but were naturally curious as well. Whatever the reason, the nurse would not allow Diana and Hannibal to come in with Weslyn. Something about a fragile state of the patient's mind, or something along those lines.

Weslyn knocked on the door. Hearing no response, she pushed the door open and walked in. Scylax was sitting at the desk pushed to the corner of the room, to the left of his bed. He was dressed in drab grey sweatpants with a comfortable dark green shirt. He appeared to be hunched over a desk, writing in something.

"Hello," Weslyn said hesitantly. Before the word had fully left her mouth, Scylax was on his bed, the desk he was sitting at was clear of clutter, and he had a surgical knife in his hand held in her direction. His emerald eyes were narrowed in an ugly scowl, but softened upon recognizing Weslyn. Then he doubled over, groaning and clutching his stomach.

"I shouldn't have done that," he croaked out, and slowly straightened his back.

Weslyn, for her part, did her best not to simultaneous faint and scream. "Y-you called for me?" she asked him in a shaky attempt at a casual tone.

"Sorry. That was a bad reaction. I shouldn't… I can't… It's a habit. Sorry."

Now Scylax was blushing. He put down the knife at a nearby table and sat down on his bed. He motioned for Weslyn to pull up a chair. She did, and the two were facing each other with about a meter between the two.

"I...well…um…. called you here to…" Scylax could barely get the words out of his mouth. "I called you here…to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It's very hard for me to trust people, and I've had to rely on just myself for a long time now… If I can trust anyone, it's you three. You saved my life, goddamnit. I just…" Scylax was closely inspecting his feet, but he suddenly looked up. Weslyn was surprised to an uncomfortable expression on his usually deadpan face. "I've been an asshole to you guys. I'll answer almost any question you ask me. Anything but my past. I just… can't right now.

"So…um… ask away."

Weslyn, overcoming her surprise, and still not entirely relaxed around this boy. She had seen him move. She didn't want to make him angry.

"Why didn't you want Hannibal or Diana in here? They played a pretty large part in saving your life."

"The Liatora kid… do you know about the Nebulon Incident?"

"Yeah. Ozpin told us."

"I suppose I should have expected that. How much did he tell you?"

"You charged into a metalworking warehouse and slaughtered its CEO and employees, left a message on a wall in blood, and then proceeded to go on a killing spree. And something to do with the Black Rose."

Scylax, looking sheepish, looked down again. "Not right now. That's basically why I don't feel comfortable allowing Hannibal in here. Especially alone. And Diana. I just don't really know her." He looked up, a hopefully light in his eyes. "Then again, I don't really know you… But I suppose the easiest way to know if you can trust someone is to trust them, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably, lowering his head again. "Well?"

"Are you a fauna? Like me?"

At this, Scylax glanced up as Weslyn removed her cap. Her ears, colored red and black, were flicking back in forth with nervousness. He grimaced inwardly. _Of course she's nervous. I probably scared her._

"Well, yes…but you have to promise not to scream, faint, or generally cause a general ruckus."

"Ok…"

Scylax opened his mouth. Wide. Inhumanely wide. Weslyn noticed immediately that there was something wrong. His top and bottom canines were gone.

In their place, there was a pair of fangs. Hollow, white fangs, about fifteen centimeters long, curved like a snake's.

Like a snake's…

Weslyn, instead of immediately fleeing in terror, was dumbfounded. She had heard of faunas with non-mammalian traits, but they were extremely rare. Modern science couldn't even explain how these strange, sometimes reptilian or even avian mutations occurred. Scylax turned around and took off his shirt. She saw scales, or what she assumed to be scales, following his spine from the top of his neck to his waist.

"For your information, I am cold-blooded too," he said, pulling his shirt back on and closing his mouth. He looked a little relieved, if surprised at her reaction. Weslyn felt uncomfortable with this emotionless boy showing that he was anything but. Instead of the lightning-fast and emotionless boy in the cloak, he was now an awkward teenager with no social skills and was sharing himself with someone he didn't know to well.

 _No wonder this is awkward for him_.

Weslyn decided to continue with questions. "What does your Semblance do, exactly?"

"Well, it does a few things. I... I think it would be easier to show you. Later. In a duel."

"Do you feel uncomfortable here?"

"This is sort of new for me. I like it here, I really do. There were too many people in Shade, with too many invasive questions. Not enough… sensitivity. I didn't like them."

"Do you enjoy writing?"

Scylax shot up at this question. Weslyn saw something akin to panic in his eyes.

"A little… bit… How much did you, uh, see?"

"Well, before you pulled your knife on me, all I saw was you hunched over your desk."

"Ok… Ok… I like it a bit. It kept me sane when I was on the run, and I still find comfort in it today.

"Well, are there any more, uh, questions?"

Weslyn thought long and hard. Surely there was something more she had to ask the boy with the knives?

"Can I… can I touch your scales?" Weslyn asked, trying to stop the blush rising to her cheeks.

"S-Sure, I can't seem the harm in that." Scylax seemed almost relieved for the questions to temporarily stop. He pulled off his shirt again, and turned around on the bed, sitting cross-legged.

"Please warn me before you-" Scylax jerked forward as Weslyn put her hand on his back. He calmed himself and settled down, and Weslyn, much more cautious this time, slowly put her hand on his back. His scales seemed to cover most of his spine, and covered his back with about the same distance as the distance between his shoulder blades. The scales, different shades of emerald green, were soft and dry, and not altogether unpleasant to the touch. Weslyn was so captivated by them that she almost didn't see Scylax trembling to her every touch. She remembered a rule with reptiles: always pet their scales in one direction, and not opposite to the way the scales overlapped.

After about a minute of touching and prodding, she moved back and sat down again. Scylax turned around and once again put on his shirt. He was failing at hiding his blush. Weslyn, quick to notice and even quicker to deflect the conversation, asked a question without thinking. "Do you have any siblings?"

Scylax looked down; she could almost physically feel the air in the room get colder. Before he could say anything though, the nurse knocked at the door at came in, taking in the situation before continuing. "Weslyn, your free period is about to be over. Your friends are waiting for you at the end of the lobby." She closed the door and walked down the hall back to the front desk.

"Well, I suppose that's enough questions for today," Scylax said, his dark and awkward mood forgotten, the rising blush on his face replaced with his usual soullessness. He practically seemed like a different person. "You best be going now. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's fine. Would… would you be fine if I told Hannibal and Diana everything that you told me?"

"I would be fine even if you told Ozpin. Now get going. You don't want to be late."

Weslyn walked to the door, putting on her cap. Just as she was opening it, Scylax remembered something.

"Wait!" Weslyn stopped and looked at him. "Do you mind getting my bag from my room? It would be easier to pass the time."

"No, I don't mind at all."

"Thanks."

As Weslyn closed the door behind her, she contemplated her strange discussion with the boy in the grey sweatpants and the scales.

* * *

 ** _AN: Something I've been getting a bit of are some PMs carefully explaining to me Monty's color rule. I assure you that I have followed this color rule. So, I made a little explanation for the four main characters. If you are at all interested, I will create a similar list for the new characters I am about to introduce. Some of these references can be a bit vague, just as a warning._**

 ** _Oh, and if you do understand any of these upcoming references, I will be unbelievably (and inexplicably) happy._**

 ** _Scylax (Or Σκύλαξ, as a Latinized form of Greek) has come to mean young puppy, or some sort of image of naïvety. This name was used for its irony as well as I have come to like it. The irony is also present in Greek, as the name is sometimes used in a sarcastic way, as I have displayed in my story. In a more latinized (and slang)form, it actually used to be a common describer of a snake. Grendel is actually a reference to the old english poem Beowulf, where a giant named Grendel challenges the main character, and is presented as a sort of antihero(same poem from whence the name Beowolf comes from, FYI). As well as being a trait, Grendel is a very dark and brooding character, and his name has become associated with a collapse of morals for means to reach an end, as well as the color pitch-black or grey. He has also been described as 'serpentine' and 'scaly', though whether this is a descriptor of his personality rather than physical appearance is still unknown to myself. An associated power of Grendel also comes to mean evil efficiency. I'll leave that up to you as to describe Scylax's past._**

 ** _Hannibal is obviously Carthaginian in nature. He intentionally shares the name with great general, but this is also the source of his color, as he shares the colors of the Carthaginian standard(I know, vague, but it works). His last name is significant to the plot later on, and I will unfortunately not explain its (vague) reference. (I know, I'm an asshole, but I assure you it complies with Monty's rules.)_**

 ** _Diana is the name of the Roman goddess of the moon, representing grace, beauty, and speed. She is one of the rare characters whose first name describes their color. Her silver color and her personality are reference for this name. Vikat actually means 'scythes'(though I forget the language and will find it as soon as my exams are over), as well as meaning 'severe' and 'formidable' in Hindi. It also has several other meanings across a motley of languages, though for the largest part will be ignored because they mean such different meanings. I'm gonna stick with Hindi._**

 ** _Weslyn means 'defending soldier' in Old German, which comes to describe her as a character. Brunneis also means brown (or more specifically, light brown) in Latin. Just saying, Latin will be a major language or reference for many of these names, as well as upcoming ones. Weslyn has a sort of unsophisticated explanation as compared to the others (as well as being a hell of a lot more explicit) but that does not parallel with her character._**

 ** _Thanks!_**


	5. Chapters 13-16

_A sight. A sound._

 _A vision? A memory? A premonition?_

 _No, merely a hallucination._

 _Alone, lost in thought, unable to comprehend._

 _Unable to accept._

 _Broken. Confused. Searching for meaning._

 _For purpose._

 _For life._

 _I take the hand offered, and begin to climb._

* * *

Chapter 13: With Only Covers to Judge

Hannibal saw a strange look on Weslyn's face as she left Scylax's room and jogged toward the front desk.

Weslyn was smiling.

She stopped short at the two. "He basically apologized for his weird behavior yesterday, and thanked us again for saving his life."

"Good," replied Hannibal. "He should have a little humility. Enough of his games."

"He also let me ask any question about him, except his past and origin."

The group turned to the exit and began walking. Weslyn told them all about Scylax, except the part about him being a snake. She stressed his awkwardness and apology. Hannibal seemed a little upset when he was told Scylax didn't want to meet him just yet. His logic was sound, but it still hurt.

Just before they left, the nurse called to them.

"Just remember, he'll be out later this week!"

* * *

"Well, Ozpin is right about one thing for sure," Weslyn added as the group was walking to Dr. Oobleck's class. "He's very fast."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh. I startled him when I walked in. He was writing something, and I guess he wanted to keep it secret. He seemed to blur across the room. It was kind of scary at the time."

"I would like to challenge his speed sometime," Diana said with a growing smile. She could already imagine a beautiful blood lust spreading over her mind as she moved faster than the fastest being she had ever met. When she put her mind to it, she could surpass anyone with her speed and reflexes. Even Oobleck, with his casual darting around the class, could not match her, she she try.

Weslyn looked into her eyes, and Diana could see some familiar playful mischief.

"Good luck."

* * *

Dr. Oobleck darted to Hannibal's right again. "During the opening year Great War, a very important battle occurred at Actis, a city situated between Vacuo and Vale. It was there that…"

Hannibal liked history; it wasn't that it wasn't interesting or useful. But there was too much on his mind. He should have made Weslyn wait until after today's classes to tell them about her conversation with Scylax. He couldn't think of much else. It was all too strange. This seemingly soulless youth, being awkward and nervous? Worried? Even uncomfortable? This did not seem like the Scylax he had been watching since the day Diana tried to sleep on top of him.

It did occur to him that this was how Scylax survived from moving country to country with seemingly no connections. Scylax was clearly distancing himself from those who he conversed with, and Hannibal prided himself on being a good judge of character.

But even he felt uncomfortable around the boy with the cloak and the green eyes. Still too many unknowns. Scylax seemed more like a shadow more than an actual distinct personality.

"Mr. Liatora, are you paying attention?"

"Yes sir!"

"Well, then. Perhaps you can answer the question?"

Hannibal knew this ploy well. And he had been partially paying attention. "There wasn't a question sir. You were just telling us about the Battle of Actis and its participants, specifically General Titus."

"I see that I was mistaken, Mr. Liatora. I apologize. Well, then. Shall we continue?"

Just as the words were out of his mouth, the bell rang, signaling the period change. "Oh, I do so hate that bell. Well, class! Remember your assignment! Vacuoan military capabilities at the battle of Actis on my desk tomorrow, before the beginning of class!

"Dismissed!"

* * *

Bartholomew Oobleck was told that he read people easily. He could often tell their thoughts before the person in question spoke them. But Weslyn Brunneis was someone who caught him off guard.

"Are there many reptilian faunas that you know of, sir?"

"While I have documented and learned of their existence, I have never personally seen one before, no. Is this something to do with your classmate? Maybe a sort of interest or fetish?" Oobleck felt the words come out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. It happened sometimes.

As someone whose mind processes information faster than anyone around you, this tended to happen when Oobleck got excited.

Weslyn was surprised at the sudden bluntness of the statement. "No, no! Not at all. Well, a little bit."

"Well, which is it? Next period starts soon, you know."

"It's about a classmate. Scylax Grendel."

"Oh, that strange boy. Who knows what goes on in his head? Wait, do you mean to tell me that he is a reptilian fauna?"

"In short, yes. In long, he's a mishmash of a lizard and a snake. It's hard to describe. As far as I know, Ozpin, the doctor of the infirmary, and myself are the only people that knows in this school."

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Though, I'm afraid that I have been a bit too inquisitive, for I seem to have made you uncomfortable." Weslyn was trying to hold back a blush.

"When he actually comes to class, and he will soon, I will have to personally inspect him. Well, Ms. Brunneis, you best be getting off to your next period now. I do have much work to do."

* * *

Hannibal was excited, as he was nervous. Everyone got this way before a duel. Special rules had been stipulated for the first week. There would be no team duels, only one versus one. There would be no ranged weapons used in this first week either, unless it is a melee weapon that is meant to be thrown. A finally, challenges can be made at the end of the week for duels. Everyone could wear what he or she wished, unless it directly interfered with the battle. You could wear a t-shirt and jeans or a full suit of armor. Hannibal had opted for a split. He was wearing his usual light grey overcoat with a red undercoat, giving him a distinguished look. Both coats were made of a particularly strong fabric that prevented ripping against most blades and allowed for almost full flexibility of his body.

And he would need it too, if he were to go up against Caer Dugo.

The man, because calling him a boy would be a gross misuse of the word, was huge. Topping just above two meters tall, he swung his double bladed battleax around like it was a toy. The ax itself was decorated in a sort of blood splatter pattern, from the edges of his blade to the hilt in which he held.

His blood red shirt with black trimmings, and his armored chest plate (also blood red) covered his ribs and chest, but stopped just at his stomach to allow for bending flexibility. His similarly colored red pants and army style black boots (this kid really had a thing for blood red) compounded to the image of a school bully, and more importantly, a dangerous opponent.

Hannibal could hardly wait.

* * *

Due to his size and gruff appearance, or maybe his love for violence, people assumed that Caer Dugo was a stupid and simple kid.

It was usually their last error they made.

No one was accepted into Beacon purely for simple fighting skills. A certain degree of intelligence was required; no, _fostered_ , for one to become a hunter and to dedicate one's life to the profession.

Besides, intelligence made everything so much more _fun_.

Caer assessed the large boy in front of him. He looked downright regal, in his grey overcoat and red undercoat, especially compared to the intimidating Caer. His broadsword looked to be a strong and reliable weapon, as well. The way that Hannibal carried it defined a certain mastery with the weapon; Caer would have to be cautious. It was apparent that this would be no easy foe.

Glynda walked between the two duelists situated on either sides of the stage. "During this first match, your objective is to lower your opponents aura into the red. Please try to keep the fight on the stage, and please try not to kill each other." She stepped back, and the countdown on the screen above the stage began.

Five. Four. Three. Two.

One.

As the buzzer sounded, the two opponents launched themselves at each other in a terrifying, complete silence. The silence was shattered when their weapons crossed.

Hannibal wasn't necessarily surprised by the strength in Caer's strike as he blocked the overhand slash with his blade. He was surprised to find himself on his back a few meters away. The force had driven him back so hard, Hannibal was unable to regain his balance. He picked himself, still holding onto his blade, and dodged out of the way of a follow-up charge.

Caer quickly turned around and brought his ax down on Hannibal. Hannibal managed to throw his body to the side in a sort of sideways combat roll. Before Caer could follow up with any additional strikes, Hannibal was on his feet, swinging at Caer's exposed side. Caer brought his long hilt up in defense, and the two locked their blades in a fight of strength. After a few seconds of straining against each other, face-to-face, Caer shoved Hannibal's sword to the side and jumped backwards. Both opponents were left staring at each other, waiting for one to make a move, chests heaving.

Weslyn surveyed the crowd around her. Both Diana and her were rooting for Hannibal, but she was curious in the fighters around her. The students were required to remain in their school uniforms for most of the day. But when fighting class came around, most fighters changed into their regular combat attire, or sometimes just to show off. Needless to say, there were many color pallets represented in the students around her. Most teams were staying together, watching the fight and assessing the two fighters with their styles. Directly to Weslyn's right, two boys, who she assumed were part of Caer's team, were discussing the two duelist's fighting styles.

"Of course, the broadsword isn't necessarily a light and fast weapon, so this Hannibal kid definitely has some strength. And look at his stance and swings as well. No doubt very proficient with his weapon," a boy in a strange light brownish-yellow robe, like the color of sand, said.

"Caer's got this. Hannibal looks like he underestimates Caer's speed, and that's sure to bite him soon," said his friend, a boy in a strange purple shirt and pants, with a golden chestplate decorated with an eagle design in the center.

Weslyn barged into the conversation in support of Hannibal. "Maybe," she said, walking up, "Hannibal will catch him with a feint. Battleaxes aren't exactly known for their maneuverability, especially when it comes to blocking."

"Yes, but Caer knows certain aspects of staff combat. He can block most attacks with either a strong and overpowering parry or with his technique. The rest he can just straight up dodge," responded the boy in the sand-colored cloak. "The name is Labib. This here is Aaryan. We're part of team JACL."

"Cool," Diana said, sliding in next to and leaning against Weslyn. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Caer is on the stage, and-"

"And I'm right here," a soft voice said behind Labib. The boy came up next to his two teammates. He was wearing a dark brown hoodie, his hood pulled up to cover his face. He was wearing strangely shaped gloves, dark brown of course, with a sort of metal covering his the back of his hand.

"And this is Jaeger," Labib continued, giving Jaeger a look of distaste. "Where have you been? I've been trying to discuss strategy and assess ours and our future opponent's fighting capabilities."

"Oh, I've been here and there, getting a look at some other teams. It was just consequential that I haven't been assigned a preordained match yet."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you absolutely destroy anything that gets in your way," Labib commented, with a single eyebrow raised. "Or, could it possibly be your obvious lack of restraint when fighting, no matter your opponent?"

"Or maybe you're just too scared to challenge me."

Labib scoffed. "Who wouldn't be? With your Semblance and all…"

Weslyn and Diana sat back, watching this verbal spar. By the way Aaryan was acting with a smug grin on his face, this was commonplace for these two. Weslyn suddenly remembered the match that was going on, and turned back to look.

* * *

Caer smiled and lifted his ax. He slowly wrote an X in the air, but when he completed the bottom right edge, he spun around and turned the slight motion into a heavy overhead attack. Hannibal knew of simple tricks like this. Make a movement with your weapon, and while your opponent is watching the blade move towards the ground, come in and brain them before they even knew what happened. He dodged back and waited for Caer's unbalanced frame to complete his swing. He then darted forward and struck Caer on the shoulder with a short, vicious strike. Hannibal completed the motion with a kick to Caer's knee, which almost buckled. Hannibal went in for another strike, but didn't see Caer's ax coming back around. Caer elbowed Hannibal in the face and used his ax to sweep Hannibal's legs out from under him. Hannibal found himself on his back again, with Caer staring down the blade of his ax, which was currently being pointed at Hannibal's face.

Hannibal had lost.

Glynda walked up to the two boys and tapped his Caer on his shoulder, motioning for him to get off. When the two boys finally separated, they both looked at the screen over the stage. It displayed a profile shot of the two opponents, with a bar below their picture symbolizing their aura.

Both were comfortably in the red.

With much applause and revelry, Glynda sent the two contestants back to the crowd, where they both went to their respective teams.

"Though it may appear obvious as to who this match's winner was today, keep in mind that one more strike from Hannibal could have sent Caer deep into the red, where I would be forced to call the match. An outstanding performance from both of you."

More applause.

* * *

Chapter 14: Ut Insolentiam Extollentis se Victor

Caer walked up to his team with a sort of swagger only someone who reveled in being the center of attention could have. He noticed that two girls were talking his team. In fact, he thought with a snarl, they probably hadn't seen most of the fight. Well, maybe Jaeger. He was a dangerous son of a bitch. But Labib and Aaryan hadn't seen him come up. He snuck up behind them and grabbed onto their collars, yanking them into the air. Aaryan quickly slipped out of grasp, detaching his purple cape, and Labib followed suit with his light robe. Both turned on Caer, setting themselves up into fighting stances before slowly dragging their eyes up to Caer's angry face.

"Did either of you realize the match was over? How badly I destroyed that Hannibal kid?"

Caer watched as distasteful looks appeared on the two girls' faces. _So this is the rest of his team_.

 _No wonder they had someone injured in the Emerald Forest_.

Caer quickly sized the two girls up. He was confident that he could easily beat both of them. Of course, this sort of arrogance probably stemmed from a combination of a match win and a superiority complex, and he knew it. No harm in a little mental self-gloating. He threw Aaryan's cape and Labib's robe back to their respective owners, and walked over to Jaeger. Though he stood a good half a foot over the boy, he still managed to put on a friendly face as he slid his arm around Jaeger's shoulders. "You saw the match, didn't you? How badly I creamed that kid?" Caer bragged, motioning to Hannibal. He was still on the stage, talking to Glynda.

"Of course," Jaeger replied, "but I was under the impression that you were two seconds away from losing if he hadn't gotten greedy and underestimated your speed." Caer gave Jaeger a disproving look, and put more weight on Jaeger's shoulders. Jaeger didn't budge. "I was also got a feeling that you underestimated him too. His skill with his sword is surely commendable."

Caer gave up, and picked himself off his Jaeger, and turned his attention to Weslyn and Diana. "Surely you saw the match, sweethearts? I must admit, your pretty boy did put up a fight, but he was truly no match for me." Truly, this was the act of a typical idealistic school bully, all the way down to the last misogynistic statement.

"I'm really not a fan of all this childish posturing," Weslyn said with a hard face. "And I echo Jaeger. You were pretty close to losing."

"I'm gonna take a shower," Caer said, giving Aaryan and Labib disapproving looks. "Meanwhile, collect data from the other fights. And don't slack off again."

When Caer had left, Jaeger turned back to Weslyn and Diana. "I apologize for him. We still don't know much about him, so we can't say if that something he usually does. I would expect it though," he said, properly eying up Weslyn and Diana, "for two ladies such as you to be getting such attention." He grinned. "Well, I suppose we will be going now. I believe that we will have fights in the near future, and to you I wish the best of luck." He walked off, with Labib and Aaryan trailing behind.

"What an interesting faunas," Weslyn commented.

"Faunas?" Diana asked, turning.

"Yeah. His eyes were kinda amber-ish, and slightly tilted. His hood obviously covered his ears. They twitched every time his neck moved."

"Hm."

They turned to see Hannibal walking towards the two, with a neutral look on his face. "So what were you talking about with the assistant headmaster?"

"Supposedly ways to improve my style, as well as a lecture on not to be greedy in a fight. You know, usual instructor stuff."

"Ok."

"And she said that we could head back to our rooms if we wanted to. Something about the rest of today's matches not being important."

* * *

As the three walked down the hall to their room, Weslyn remembered something. "Oh, I forgot to mention this guys, but Scylax asked if I could bring his bag to him."

"Oh. THAT bag," Diana said with a mischievous smile.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" asked Hannibal, his right eyebrow raised.

"Oh nothing," Diana dismissed with a flick of her wrist. "Just a bunch of books and poorly written poetry."

"You _read_ Scylax's books?" Weslyn asked incredulously. "Even I didn't expect you to invade his privacy that much."

"Actually, I thought that he might have a some dirty material to hold over his head and turn him into our personal servant. And he really didn't have any other stuff. But I digress," Diana said, walking into the room. "Here you go," Diana picked up this small black bag by the strap and flung it at Weslyn.

"Thanks, I guess." Weslyn caught it and walked to the doorway, only to stop with a particularly mischievous look in her eyes. "Hey D, you don't suppose I should tell Scylax that you went through his stuff?"

For once, a look of mild panic crossed Diana's face. "You probably want a body to bury when I die, right?"

Stifling a giggle and fighting an urge to betray Diana, Weslyn walked to infirmary. As she walked along the deserted halls, Weslyn looked closer at the bag. It was dark black, showing few stains and scratches. The bag itself was very simple; a fold over cover that held its contents closed, held in place with a magnet. No zippers or any other noisy apparatus. But on the entire back, it was obvious someone had tried to burn it. The scorch marks were clear as day, discounting the musty and almost crispy smell coming from the bag itself.

Before she knew it, Weslyn had stopped, the bag open in her arms. It was so inviting, with promises of mysteries and stories, or other exotic contents.

She was disappointed to see a few leather-bound books, showing obvious age with their collective scratches and indentions in the covering. Though displaying various solid colors, the books had no obvious markings or distinguishers. She took out a brown book, thick with pages and obviously old. As she opened it, a small chip of black silicon fell out of the middle pages.

Finally realizing what she was doing, Weslyn put the little chip back into the bag, following the book. She started walking down the hall, remembering her purpose. Diana's jokes might be one thing, but if there was something she knew about the boy in the cloak, it was that she knew nothing. Hoping that Scylax didn't have some mystical power to tell if someone had read his stuff, she returned the bag to her shoulder and continued to the infirmary.

* * *

Caer leaned on the corner of the hall, trying to put together what he just saw. There were tons of small black bags floating around Remnant. Sure, they might have been from the same company; no, the same store, and it wouldn't matter to him in the slightest. Even the contents didn't raise any red flags in his mind or memory.

It was the scorch marks. They were familiar to him, far too painfully familiar. However faint they were on a black surface, he recognized them immediately.

After all, he was why they were there.

* * *

Chapter 15: A Weed and A Rose, Covered by Purple Sand

Scylax thanked the nurse in his usual even tone, hoping not to betray the absolute indignation that he was attempting to control.

 _Somebody… read… my work?_ Scylax was stunned. Such a blatant and insensitive act, against _him_? Of all the people to piss off? Surely, it had to be Diana; Hannibal had too much honor; Weslyn, too much respect. Besides, she fit the picture perfectly. If it were his old self acting, Diana would probably be missing a finger or two in the near future.

Luckily for Diana's digits, Scylax had expected it. Not consciously, but he definitely wasn't nearly as surprised or outraged as he imaged himself to be. And he was definitely past the point of physically harming anyone that wronged him just because he was just a little angry. Physical harm usually didn't have the greatest responses with people.

He was a source on that.

He let go of his hubris. No matter. I would be the simple act of coming up with a more secure system rather than a simple safeguard. And it was only three of his books, just a little poetry or philosophical insights. Nothing terribly bad, to say the least. No, those other entries were safely hidden away. He still didn't know why he couldn't force himself to rid the books of those terrible, memory-soaked pages, the words scrawled in his own lifeblood rather than ink.

Besides, he really did not want to look at bits silicon Nevermore feathers any longer than necessary.

Opening his favorite book, a rather old and musty leather-bound cover, he began to reread the days of his insanity.

* * *

"What's wrong, Caer? You seem to be quiet tonight. Though," Jaeger added with a smug look, "that might just be a good thing."

Glaring daggers, Caer sprawled on his bed, lost in memory and forethought, reliving experiences. He was very good at that. He remembered pain, sadness, misery. Not much someone would wish to remember, and often things people wished to block from their minds. But these were the emotions, the memories that drove him not only to change himself but also to change his circumstance.

 _Be patient and tough_ , he continued to tell himself. _Someday, this pain will be useful to you._ These thought usually helped the pain subside, the crushing guilt lessen, the memories fade. But not tonight. Tonight, he was reminded of his acts. Acts that he is sure he will regret for the rest of his life.

But one cannot change the past. Caer pushed himself up and opened his history book. These are the mistakes of the past that must be learned from. He was pardoned for his crimes, given a second chance, and he aimed to take full advantage of it. Remember your past, for it will affect your future. It will break you if you allow it, and strengthen you if you force it. Life is perspective, and all you need to do to change life is to change pers-

"I'm telling you, that Gabbro guy looked smug as could be," Aaryan said in that funny accent of his. "Sure, he did beat that kid by a rather large margin, but that's no excuse for such condescending behavior. We came here to school to get better, and very few people came to show off. In fact," Aaryan shot a glance toward Jaeger, who was currently stripping down behind the closed bathroom door," there are a few here that are restricted from fighting. Jaeger isn't the only one."

"I heard that," came the muffled voice of Jaeger, followed quickly by the sound of running water.

"Oh? Who else, then?" Labib questioned, a skeptical and slightly amused look in his sand-colored eyes that matched his robe, keffiyah, hair, and personality so completely it was eerie. "It's hard to imagine someone being restricted from fighting in a similar fashion to Jaeger."

"You remember the name of the kid that got injured during team SHDW's initiation?" Aaryan shifted on his bed, covered in comfortable-looking purple pajamas, his slicked-back black hair still full of gel, as always.

"Yeah. It was Silas, or Skillex, or something like that. I wasn't paying attention. Too caught up in the fact that we were actually accepted into Beacon."

"Aren't you supposed to be known for your memory?"

 _His name is Scylax_ , Caer felt tempted to say, but stopped himself in time. It would be a little too suspicious. Labib and Aaryan, for all their talk and analysis, were very intelligent and perceptive. One did not enter Beacon or any other Hunter academy on fighting skills alone.

These two had in fact come from a public school, where more mundane and scholastic things were taught, contrary to the popular enrollment from primary fighting schools such as Signal and Sanctum. Not because the two weren't adept fighters; on the contrary, their skills in combat, mostly learned from personal training in their respective families, did not leave much to be desired in flair, skill, mastery, complexity, or lethality.

Labib was a genius, pure and simple. Aaryan followed in a close second, but had more of a mind for mathematics, teaching, and memory retention. While Labib focused more on theorization and analysis, Aaryan focused more on application and complexity, preferring to stick to the very reliable field of mathematics and innovative fields of science. The two- well, Jaeger had noticed pretty quickly, as well -had seen through his little facade easily. They didn't acknowledge it, and for that Caer was grateful. His team treated him with respect, with the usual friendly banter thrown into the mix. Caer enjoyed it; the three teammates were so different from the people he used to being surrounded by. They mentally kept Caer on his toes, and, for once in his life, that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Well, he hasn't got any matches either. None at all," Aaryan said.

"I would assume that the injury he took was pretty substantial for something like that to happen."

"Actually, word on the street, so to say, is that his fighting style is to blame."

"Like a lack of disciple, or lack of skill?"

"Neither. They say he's the Weed."

"Bullshit. How could the Weed be enrolled here? Of all the places? Besides, no one's managed to catch him yet."

"Hey, rumor is rumor. Fact doesn't necessarily compute into their creation. I'm just repeating what's being said."

"More like regurgitating it."

"I find your negative use of language unnecessary and rude."

"Both of you, shut up," Jaeger said, walking about of the bathroom with his grey sweatpants and shirtless torso. Caer took a moment to inspect his chest. Ripped muscles, not unusual for Beacon students, were clearly displayed along side his six-pack, though his arms were deceptively thin. In fact, underneath his cloak, his whole posture seemed like a lie.

"What do you think, great leader?" Aaryan said in a mocking tone. "What have you of these rumors?"

"Unfounded and wild speculations, at best. Bullying, at worst. It would be a little awkward for the kid to have that sort of reputation _before_ he actually met anyone. That would be downright embarrassing after his first duel."

"I expect he will probably get a lot of duel requests. People want to see just how weak he is," Aaryan yawned and lay down.

"Be careful of your assumptions, Aaryan," Labib said as he followed suit. "There is too much not known of this mysterious figure. We must be vigilant."

"You really do have a flair for drama, don't you?" Caer spoke for the first time tonight.

"Finally! The Red Giant speaks! Unfortunately, we are just going to sleep now. Any more words out of any of you and I will personally dump your unconscious body in the hall."

A with that, Jaeger pulled his covers over his chest, and turned off the lights, ending team JACL's fifth day at Beacon.

* * *

Chapter 16: A Dangerous Book to Judge

Beacon's schedule was still a little confusing. Sure, it was Saturday, but they had classes for half the day. Exercise and fitness combined with dueling class made up today schedule. Luckily, after fitness, no one on team SHDW had a duel today. They would remain spectators, trying to determine who were the opponents to watch out for, what someone's fighting style resembled, how to effectively counter his or her weapons.

The first fight today was Labib Ramil versus someone named Nequam Ostrum. The boy carried a strange sword, with a very wide and circular crossguard with overlapping covers. The sword itself was long and thin, with a very sharp edge. It was inscribed with some sort of design that covered the sword from tip to hilt. The boy himself had a dark brown tunic, covering a purple hoodie, which was protected by a shiny, white, flexible chest guard. The boy had short dark brown, almost black hair. He stood casually by, the rapier pointed at the ground, his sharp, narrowed brown eyes observing Labib's every move.

Labib, on the other hand, was clearly excited. His sand colored eyes almost matched his spiky blond hair. Hopping from foot to foot, he twirled his staff around him in an effort to warm up. His robe flapped around him, and he was not wearing his keffiyah.

Hannibal looked at Labib in despair. He was about to be destroyed. Sure, being excited was one thing, but being so obvious shows his lack of experience. Labib was clearly going to attack first, something Nequam could take advantage of.

"Remember, you two. No ranged weapons during this fight. Nequam," Glynda Goodwitch turned to the boy, a dark scowl on his face. "You may use your shield, but not your gun."

Nequam merely nodded. He readied himself, his sword pointed at Labib, his back arched in a classic fencer's ready position. Labib replied in turn, bending his knees and resting his staff across his shoulders. He sat completely still, and the room went silent.

"Go."

Just as Hannibal predicted, Labib launched himself at Nequam. The boy swung his staff off his shoulder and into Nequam's waiting sword. Nequam pulled his sword along Labib's staff. Labib, meeting no resistance, stumbled forward.

Or he seemed to.

Just as Nequam was bringing sword up for a slice at Labib's exposed back, the staff, impossibly, swung around from the other side, knocking the sword away once more. In the same motion, Labib brought the other end of the staff around, hitting Nequam directly in the face.

Stumbling back, he quickly regained his balance. There was sure to be a bruise, and Nequam's aura took a rather large hit; it was down almost a third.

Hannibal knew it at once. It had all been an act.

Labib was a much more dangerous opponent than one might think.

Nequam, a dark scowl on his face, lunged forward in an overhead slice. Labib ducked down, pivoting his staff and deflecting the strike, and in the same motion shoving the other end into Nequam's side. Dodging back, Nequam swung at Labib's staff, still moving to where he was seconds later. His crossguard expanded into a circular inward-facing shield, composed of the overlapping layers of crossguard. The unexpected action knocked Labib's staff to the side. Then, using the shield like a club, Nequam swung the shield at Labib's shoulder, knocking the smaller boy to the ground. His robe settling around him, Labib gripped his staff and rolled out of the way of a follow-up strike and sprang to his feet. The two faced each other, and Nequam changed his shield back to his sword.

Then they were at it again.

Nequam lunged forward as a feint. When Labib tried to knock it away, he pulled back and struck again. Labib was caught across the shoulder, but returned the favor with a strike to Nequam's knee. Nequam came back into the fray, his sword flashing, his scowl deepening. For almost a full minute they traded strikes, with no significant hits landed on either party.

Suddenly, it was over.

Labib had lunged at Nequam's shoulder with a double strike, spinning his behind his back for a side attack at Nequam's upper shoulder. Nequam ducked underneath the strike, and brought his sword around to strike at Labib's abdomen. Labib made to block, but in an unexpected act of extreme speed, Nequam activated the shield on his sword, knocking the staff aside and sending Labib flying across the stage from the force of the sudden expansion. The wooden staff made a clacking noise as it bounced on the ground, quickly followed by Labib's stunned body hitting the floor, his robe settling around him.

Nequam stood from his crouch, returned his shield to a sword, made an X salute, and sheathed it.

Applause crashed throughout the room, followed by cheering and shouting praise. He returned to his teammates, with pats on the back and jeers at Labib, slowly standing up with an air of superiority.

"I would like Mr. Ostrum to please come back to the stage."

As Nequam walked back up, a voice broke out of the mostly now silent crowd.

"Why should Nequam have to stand next to that loser!?"

"Mr. Malus, I would ask you to please calm yourself. You do not have to enjoy it, but it a tradition for the duelists to shake hands, regardless of the margin of victory."

"It's not like I don't mind," Nequam said in an unexpectedly soft voice that did not fit in with his permanent scowl and sharp eyes. Both Glynda and Gabbro Malus both stopped talking, and Nequam took Labib's hand.

"That was a pretty good fight. You're pretty OK with that staff."

"I could say the same about your sword," Labib replied, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. The two shook, and the crowd once more erupted into cheer.

Both fighters returned to their respective teams, with accompanied applause. A good and entertaining fight had taken place, with both of the duelists' auras in the deep red. Skill had been displayed, prestige had been created, and the battle lines were more definitively drawn. A good fight, all around.

"Now, most fights have a set amount of time. Today, I simply wanted to see your abilities demonstrated. Due to the length of today's fight, we will be breaking protocol slightly," Glynda said from the stage, "I will let you off today early, for I believe we do not have enough time for another duel fight. Class dismissed, and have a good day."

Glynda turned around, her black cape turning with her, and walked towards the exit of the stage. Now, the cheers were back, as the teams respectively tried to reach the exit first.

"So guys," Diana, said with a playful tone. "Where to now?"

* * *

 ** _AN: Hey, guys. (Yes, you three people that read my stuff, thank you.) I've been kinda slowing down writing because I've just had to go through semester exams and several tests in a very short time. But now that's done, I'm definitely gonna be writing a lot more. I am enjoying this, and I hope you are too._**

 ** _Thanks!_**


	6. Chapters 17-20

_Surrounded._

 _By thoughts. By feelings. By emotions._

 _By wolves._

 _Darting in, tearing, scratching, drawing blood._

 _No alpha, no definitive place of attack._

 _The wolves are endless._

 _First go the arms, then the legs._

 _Then the mind._

 _I curl into a ball, in pursuit of my sanity._

* * *

Chapter 17: The Wicked Never Sleep

Scylax woke up in a cold sweat, feeling a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed. He must have been fidgeting again. The gentle and wrinkled hand on his shoulder was a sign of the doctor's coming, a prearranged way to wake Scylax up. He already apologized for punching him in the face. The nurse had seen it, though, so he grew more and more uncomfortable with her fearful looks in his direction, no matter what he tried to explain.

"Rise and shine. It's your release day. Apparently, they've deemed you fit to reenter society," Dr. Sano said, with his usual dry humor and warm tone. The old doctor, probably somewhere in his late sixties, stood tall and proud. He suffered from few physical ailments; he was in perfect shape, a poster boy for those his age.

"Hello Doctor," Scylax said, pulling himself up, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room, he could see his cloak and tunic in the corner of the room, next to his desk. His black tunic and pants were folded beside it on the desk. Though he had written little, he was still thankful to Weslyn. Shrugging himself out of his warm and ridiculously fuzzy blanket, he put his feet on the cold floor. Wincing at the cold, he glanced at the doctor.

"Oh. I do apologize. Your slippers are right here."

Handing Scylax a pair of slip on slippers, Casus Sano stood respectfully to the side as Scylax packed up his things. In all of his years of doctoring, he grew to notice a lot about the human body and mind. Never once had he seen a boy with this sort of ability or speed. This was his first reptilian fauna as well, even though he took part in the Faunas Rights Revolution. Casus noticed something off about Scylax the second he met him. The boy was regenerating most of his liver when he finally became conscious. Screaming from the pain of a dream, his eyes had turned completely black, enveloping his emerald pupils. The boy was up in a heartbeat, punching Casus in the face, and throwing himself at the doctor with a strangled cry. Casus caught him; the boy had passed out from the pain in his stomach. Luckily, the stitching held, and Casus put the boy under sedative.

When he had finally had a proper conversation, Scylax could barely seem more detached. He constantly asked for things to read, and most attempts to make conversation failed, even with Casus' silver tongue and good humor. The boy had something in his eyes. Something Casus had seen in far too many soldiers.

The boy had seen death.

Dark, bloody, brooding death. Casus had dealt with people in the past; he had been a field medic during the Revolution, supporting the Faunas cause. During those horrific battles, he was forced to patch up some of the greatest and worst fighters on the faunas side. But never before had Casus actually been scared of one of his patients.

Until now.

No matter. The boy had eventually come around, apparently deciding to trust the doctor. Casus had grown fond of him, with his dry wit and blank complexion. He had been an avid reader, a passion Casus himself shared. Casus still knew little of the boy's past, but determined him to be a competent fighter. The two had discussed books. Nothing more was really said, besides Scylax's requests for a warm blanket and heated room. It didn't take long for Casus to figure out Scylax was cold-blooded. He felt very uncomfortable on the cold tile floor; hence, the slippers.

The boy slipped his cloak on; the feeling of mild nervousness appeared in Casus' stomach. Scylax looked downright intimidating in his black and grey cloak.

"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy finally coming out of this dank cave," he said, leading Scylax down the hall toward the lobby. Ozpin was waiting for them.

"Hello Doctor. I trust your patient is well?"

"Beyond well. He healed at an extraordinary rate, a lot of it without my help!" Casus said with an accompanied hearty chuckle. "He's fit to leave. I would advise no quick movements until the skin finally closes over the stitches."

"Thank you, Doctor. I will expect a full report on his condition later today. Scylax, could you come this way?"

Scylax nodded, and Dr. Sano watched as the boy with the emerald eyes left his clinic.

"He's a weird one, that boy," came a voice behind the counter.

"I would be careful, Ginger. He might have heard that."  
The nurse paled, and quickly went back to sorting through paperwork.

* * *

Scylax followed Ozpin through the halls. It was rare for him to have dreams. People often try to suppress dark and unpleasant memories in an attempt to move on with life. He was no exception; he rarely dreamed.

When he did dream, however, he had nightmares.

He was full of unpleasant memories, memories that soldiers with PTSD would balk at. The things he had seen, the things he had done, will forever be a part of him until the day he died.

Scylax had been dreaming a lot while in the clinic. It might be some mental thing: he hadn't been injured that badly for years. Or something in the clinic itself, maybe some sort of medication or chemical messing with his brain. Whatever the case, it had caused him to lose composure. Dr. Sano was a good person, but Scylax had a habit of not getting close to people.

Pulling his thoughts together, he realized that Ozpin had started talking.

"You will be sleeping in your dorm with your team, by the way. We won't be giving you a different room like Shade, even if you have conflict with your team."

Scylax nodded and stared straight ahead.

"For now, you may opt out of any duels, teacher or student-created. You will accompany your team throughout the day for the next four years, and your partner will be even more closely involved with your activities, as well."

"Just asking, but who would my partner be? It was kind of a confusing day."

"If I remember correctly, you made eye contact with Weslyn first, when telling her about the pack's tactics."

Scylax nodded in confirmation. He had a hunch. That was why he trusted her above the other. He was forced by predicament, not by choice.

wHe would rather not trust anyone.

"You will be required to show up to class, no matter what you think you already know," Ozpin continued.

"Sir, I would like to point out that the teacher at Shade that told you I was skipping classes in my assessment report had a bit of unrelated conflict with me."

"I am aware of such a conflict, and will note that down as I repeat what I just said. Go to your classes."

Once again nodding in confirmation, Scylax walked into the auditorium, only to find it empty. Glynda Goodwitch was sitting in the stands, clearly waiting for the two.

"Finally! I thought you'd never show up. I cancelled class early today. The first fight took much longer than expected," Glynda said in an uncharacteristically joyful tone.

"Where would my team be now?" Scylax said in his usual neutral voice.

"I overheard them talking. They were one of the last teams to leave. They were going to hit Town Square. I believe they were going to a local candy shop as one of their first stops. Apparently, Diana has a bit of a sweet tooth."

She hopped off of the stage where she had been sitting with her Scroll.

"Good day, Ozpin." And then disappeared behind the door and was gone.

"You'd best head down to the shop. It's in the middle of the square, with big yellow signs that say 'Crotchmer's Candy'."

 _What an unusually simple name_ , Scylax thought.

Ozpin turned to exit, away from Scylax.

"Later tonight, I want you to come to my office for a debriefing on Black Rose. It would drastically help the team involved in their destruction," Ozpin said, readjusting his dark glasses.

"Of course. But two quick questions, Ozpin."

"Hmmm?"

"Why me?" No more words needed to be said.

"Because I see greatness in you, Scylax. You can become to much more than you are now. I also pity you, and your predicament."

"Ignoring the nice stereotypical answer and practical quotation directly out of Ninj- nevermind. Thanks. One more. Which team is covering the Black Rose case?"

At this, Ozpin turned around and looking Scylax in the eyes, smiling.

"Team RWBY."

* * *

Chapter 18: Time to Kill, and Lives to Ruin

"Diana, I don't care how large our student allowance is, but you seriously need to calm down on the sweets."

Diana was practically running around the store, looking at random items on shelves and in containers, snatching them up and putting them in the basket she was carrying, only to dart off once more in search of other candies.

"No, no, no! Stop, just stop."

Like an adult with a hyperactive child, Hannibal grabbed Diana by the shoulders to stop. Once she calmed down, he took her basket. "Let's look at what we already have, and then make sure the man doesn't run out of stock from what we select."

The man in questions was an old man in his seventies, with balding grey hair and gentle blue eyes. Erin Crotchmer was short, was wearing an apron, and generally fit all the stereotypes of someone owning a candy shop, down to the very reason of its existence.

He just wanted to.

Weslyn, sitting at a small table next to the entrance, grinned to herself. Diana was always like this. Darting from this to that, wanting everything. Hannibal was much more economical. He often limited Diana's wants and desires.

That was definitely a good thing. Diana probably would have lost her entire allowance in ten minutes in this crowded shopping square.

The doorbell, because this shop was practically making fun of the stereotype by basically parodying it, clanged as a new customer entered the shop.

Weslyn was surprised to see it was Scylax.

He stood at the entrance. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans as opposed to his usual cloak, looking far less conspicuous. His hood was pulled back. Spotting Weslyn, he walked over and sat across from her.

"Hello."

"Hey."

The two watched Diana and Hannibal for a minute or two. Then Scylax spoke up.

"So how much did you tell them?"

"Basically everything. Except that you're a snake."

"Hm."

The two sat in silence once more.

"Why no cloak?"

"A little too conspicuous. This is my first day in the town, after all."

More silence.

"So what other stops are we making today?"

"Oh, nothing. Picking up a few clothes, maybe looking at the many restaurants around town. Maybe even looking at the really big bookstore they have here."

"There's a bookstore?" Scylax seemed to perk up at the thought, as much as someone could perk up without actually physically moving.

"Yep. It's actually a surprisingly popular place for Beacon students."

"I might just want to step in there right now."

"You not a fan of candy?"

"I don't really do straight sugar. Too… cloying."

"Yeah, me too," Weslyn said, standing up.

"Hey Hannibal! We're going to the bookstore early. Meet us there once Diana gets her candy."

"Ok," he responded, an exhausted and pleading look in his eyes.

* * *

"So this is gonna sound a little out of the blue, but what exactly did Diana read of my books?"

"You knew?"

"I keep a little black piece of Nevermore feather near the bottom page of all of my books. If it moved, then someone opened it. It might seem stupid, but the pages are actually pretty collectively heavy and usually keep the piece in place. Besides, I can only really tell if it's moved noticeably. And," he said with a hint of a grin, "it works pretty good as a bookmark."

"Well, not much. Or so she claimed," Weslyn said, attempting to force down her panic. "Something about three covers and poetry."

"Good," he said, with an inward sigh of relief. _She hadn't gotten to the journal_.

"So what do you write?"

"Mostly poetry, philosophical insights. Sometimes stories. Nothing much, really."

Something was off in his tone. Weslyn didn't question it.

"When I was bringing the bag to you, a certain volume fell out. A brown, musty book with a worn leather cover. What's in that one?"

"Nothing much. Poetry. Regrets. Insanity."

The two started crossing a street.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just thoughts. Have you written before?"

"No."

"Ever wanted to?"

"Yeah, but I thought it was too hard."

"Writing is easy. All you need to do is sit down and… bleed."

A screech of rubber. A large navy blue box truck had run a red light, speeding. It was charging down the mostly empty street, honking its horn. Engrossed in conversation, the two hadn't noticed the far off noise.

Scylax reacted immediately, practically sliding out of the way. Weslyn flung herself to the side. Unfortunately, the two went the same direction, and Weslyn landed on Scylax, knocking him to the ground in surprise.

Truck roared past them, still honking its horn.

Weslyn picked herself off Scylax, looking to make sure any more stray and equally crazy vehicles weren't trying to kill them. Seeing none, she reached down and helped Scylax to his feet.

"Thanks," he said. Then he was flying through the air, falling to the ground a few meters away, landing with a smack on the pale concrete.

A red and black blur sprinted past her, seemingly chasing after the runaway truck. "Sorry!" she heard a young feminine voice say, and it was gone.

 _Talk about strange_ , Weslyn thought. Then she ran over to Scylax.

He was on his back, pulling himself off the concrete, a hand to the back of his head.

"Well, that was unexpected, to say the least."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm still alive, so I'd say yes." Scylax stood and looked down the street, almost visualizing the pursuer that had so rudely knocked him aside.

"I have half a mind to chase after her."

"Her?"

"Yeah. She was wearing a black blouse and black corset, with red lacing and red trimmings, looked like an older teen. Carried a wicked red scythe."

 _Talk about descriptive_. "Did you even see her? She was just a blur for me."

"It definitely had to be her Semblance. I'd never seen someone move as fast as that since- nevermind."

"Hello? Remnant to Scylax. You saw her?"

Scylax looked over at her, a playful look in his usually blank eyes.

"Yep. And I think I just found the second fastest Huntsman-in-training in the world."

"Who's the first?"

He turned around and started walking. A small grin was on his face, but it never seemed to reach his eyes.

"Myself, of course."

Weslyn jogged to catch up, and the two fell into step as they approached the bookstore.

* * *

Chapter 19: Two Steps From Hell, albeit Reluctant

"So, this is the place?"

"Apparently."

Before the two stood a tall, white building, three stories tall and many, many large windows. In black calligraphic letters stood a sign stating 'Tabernam Et Libris'.

"I've heard this place is supposed to be a library too," Weslyn said, walking towards the two double glass doors that market the entrance.

Inside, wood paneling and a bright atmosphere greeted them. The store felt homely, or at the very least welcoming. There were several bookstands sporting genres and specifically promoted titles, as well as a section near the back sporting a large collection of bookshelves, assumed to be the library.

Weslyn recognized two familiar faces near a fantasy genre stand.

Walking over, she greeted them.

"Hey, Aaryan. Hey, Labib."

Looking up in surprise, and quickly holding a book behind their collective backs, the two looked around at the feminine voice that had greeted them.

Letting out a sign of relief, the two recognized Weslyn.

"Oh. Didn't know you liked books."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Weslyn responded, faking a defensive tone.

"N-nothing," Labib stammered, quickly trying to find something to change the conversation.

"Is this your boyfriend?" he bit out.

Scylax looked up in surprise from the book he had just taken off the stand.

"No," was the only reply they got out of him. He turned to Weslyn.

"You aren't going start getting flustered, right?"

Giving Scylax a funny look, Weslyn looked back at the two. "Nah, he's just my other teammate. He was in the infirmary, so you wouldn't have met him."

Upon hearing this, Aaryan and Labib exchanged exaggerated looks.

"Are you the Weed?" they both asked Scylax simultaneously.

Glancing up, he looked both of them in the eyes. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You know, the Weed, the vigilante in the news that tried to bring the Black Rose down," Aaryan responded in his funny accent, obviously excited.

A second of silence. It seemed to stretch on forever. Scylax looked into Labib's eyes, then Aaryan's.

"No."

He shut the cover of the book he was holding with an ominous thump, replaced it on the stand, and walked off towards the library.

The three watched him go. After a few seconds, the two boys let go of a breath the two didn't realize they had been holding.

"Honestly, he looked like he wanted to attack us," Labib said, looking a little shaken. "He's definitely intimidating. How old even is he?"

"He's sixteen. Just like me."

"So, welcome to the bookstore, everything at the cheap price of always way too expensive," Labib said welcomingly.

"Cool. So, what were you guys reading? I do like fantasy, you know."

Immediately, Labib tried to replace the book he was currently holding with another on the stand, but Weslyn darted out, grabbing the cover from Labib's hand.

"Oooooh. So you're into Elder Fire series? Which one is this? The Lost of Beelzebub? Typical of you, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Labib responded indignantly.

Weslyn chuckled and tossed the book back to Labib, who was practically blushing in embarrassment and anger. "Enjoy your fantasies, NERDS!" she said, running off after Scylax.

She found him in one of the halls of bookshelves, looking at bookshelves. He was looking in the microfilm section, where several promotional videos were on display.

"Haven't heard that name in a long time…" Scylax whispered to himself, having yet to notice Weslyn.

"Hey."

Scylax darted up in surprise, his hood flying back in his haste.

"Be careful with the way you look at things. It looks like you're trying to shoplift those microfilms. Do you even own a Scroll?"

"No," he said, crouching back down to look at the lower section, where many classics and less popular microfilms were held.

"What're you looking for?"

"There was this guy who made these really good episodic animations. His name was something Oum. Can't remember his name for the life of me. I personally feel as if he's less appreciated as an animator."

"Why would you think that?"

"All of his releases are always in harder to find areas. Such as this." Scylax reached into the back of the shelf, careful to not pull out any other microfilms. He pulled out two green ones, and stood up.

"I'm gonna look in the philosophy section. Where can I find you?"

"Oh, I'll be by the front counter in a minute." _Philosophy section?_ "I know what I'm looking for."

"See ya." Scylax walked off, heading towards a small section plainly titled 'Philosophy'.

 _Meh,_ she mentally shrugged. _To each his own._

Weslyn quickly jogged to the fantasy section (without letting Labib and Aaryan see her, of course) and grabbed The Ranger from a shelf, and quickly jogged to the checkout counter.

There, she found an interesting sight.

A large white man, looking around his forties, was arguing with a attendant behind the counter, while a tan faunas girl with blond rabbit ears stood nearby, obviously annoyed. A line extended behind her, leading to the checkout counter.

"Why should she get the last one?!" the man was yelling, while the faunas looked ready to retort.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem here?" Weslyn asked, walking up to the duo that was quickly attracting nearby attention.

"This man wants my book, a book that I got first, just because I'm a faunas!" the girl said, obviously angry.

"Of course! It's not like you animals need to read anyway!"

Weslyn was shocked. She hadn't seen this blatant racism is a long time, not since she was a little girl.

"Well? Are you gonna give it over, you little shit?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

The man darted forward and tried to grab the book, only to receive a swift shove back. He tried again, coming onto the faunas, only to be shoved forward as the faster girl managed to get behind him. He lurched into the line, knocking people over as he struggled to regain his balance. He turned around, face a bright red with anger and embarrassment. He took a step forward, and Weslyn resigned herself to interfere.

Luckily she didn't have to. Before the man's foot had landed on the ground, his head was at an awkward angle, and he collapsed to the floor.

Scylax stood behind the man, holding his two books casually. He turned around, walked past the stunned line, and placed his books on the counter to the horror of this library attendant.

"I would like to check out two books, please."

* * *

Chapter 20: Covers and Titles

"Thank you. It got out of hand a little faster than I thought it would. The name's Riviera. I'm part of Team GRNT."

"Oh! So you're on the team with Nequam!" Weslyn said.

"Yeah, but I'm not nearly as good as a fighter," Riviera said, grabbing her arm with her opposite hand and looking down, the perfect picture of vulnerability. Weslyn noticed that she was incredibly cute, with pale blue eyes, tan skin, and pleasant face. Her flowing blonde hair looked amazing, as well. She was wearing a navy blue blouse with a yellow sash around her waist.

"I don't like people," Scylax said, walking up to the two after having made his checking account with the library. His tone was neutral, as always.

"Thank you for that, back there. I didn't really need help back there, but I appreciate it," Riviera said.

"No problem." Scylax responded.

The three stood in an awkward silence. Scylax pulled back his hood.

"So, what do you think of Gabbro?" Scylax said, shattering the silence.

"Oh, I can't go bad-mouthing my teammates behind their backs now, can I?"

"Hey, Weslyn!"

Hannibal and Diana ran up, Diana clutching a rather large box of assorted candies, sweets, and other sugar-related food products. Diana was already devouring a small bag of sour gummy worms.

"I managed to save a little, though we might have to deal with Diana later," Hannibal said, faking fatigue. He and Diana approached the three, staring at Riviera.

"Who might this be?" he asked, eyeing the faunas.

"I'm Riviera, from Team GRNT," she said, offering a hand to shake.

Hannibal took it, and they shook. "Nice to meet you. This is Weslyn, Diana, and Scylax. We're Team SHDW."

"A pleasure. Scylax and Weslyn helped me with a little problem earlier, so I want to show my thanks." She held her chin in one hand, pretending to think.

"Oh! I know! There's this little café nearby that has _the_ best coffee! Let me treat you there."

"I'm not the biggest fan of coffee, but I do like tea," Weslyn said helpfully. Scylax simply shrugged.

"Actually, we still have a few errands to run. Maybe later?" Hannibal said, a note of regret in his voice.

"Oh, it's nothing. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," Riviera said, a flustered look on her face.

"Later, then," Weslyn offered, and Riviera nodded.

"Of course. Besides, I wouldn't want to seemingly disappear from my team."

"See you around, I suppose," Hannibal said, and the three turned around, walking out of the store.

* * *

Walking down the street, Weslyn told Hannibal and the barely attentive Diana about their encounter with the truck and the girl. "It was actually really confusing at the time. I suppose we just shrugged it off and kept moving."

"Hm."

The four walked past a protest, led by the White Fang. Weslyn gauged her friend's reactions. She herself was a supporter of the White Fang, but didn't like their violent nature and means.

Scylax was watching the group, a look of mild distaste on his mostly concealed face. Diana looked like she could care less as she stuffed her face with liquorish. Hannibal eyed the group warily as a police line was set up opposite the screaming and shouting group of angry faunas.

"Such a despicable thing," she heard Scylax say. Weslyn noticed the group of counter-protesters, shouting insults and obscenities at the faunas rights group. For the most part, she couldn't really blame them. Most were there because of misguided attacks rather than actual hatred for the faunas.

The group walked into a clothing store. Not really a fan of clothes shopping, Weslyn leaned in a corner and began to read The Ranger.

The story followed a secret society of specially trained assassins-turned-mercenaries, bought by big companies and high-ranking crime bosses to deal with enemies. It was an interesting novel, where the main character was a Ranger conscripted into the force because of his father. He then spends his early years trying to bring down the society, but f-

"Is that any good?"

Weslyn looked up into Scylax's eyes. "Yeah. It's entertaining, at least. I've only gotten through three chapters."

"I'm personally a fan of the series," he said, sitting down next to her, fingering two microfilms. Weslyn looked at the book in his lap, titled 'Logical Fallacies'.

"What interest do you have in philosophy, anyway?"

"Makes everything seem much smaller. Less significant. More clear-cut."

"Isn't that a bad thing, though? Shouldn't you enjoy the little things more rather than making them seem pointless?"

Scylax opened his book, turning to the first page.

"It's one of the greatest things I could ever ask for."

The two sat in silence. Scylax opened his book and began to read.

A few minutes of empty silence passed. Weslyn suddenly closed her book and sat up.

"Why do they call you the Weed?"

Scylax looked up. Sitting up and bending the page he was on, he looked over.

"I would think it to be obvious."

"A weed, growing in a rose bed, killing of all other plants?"

"Basically."

"Why don't you like that title? I would be ecstatic to have a cool nickname like that."

"And back at the bookstore; I just want to make sure that you don't have some image of grandeur, saving the two girls as a knight in shining armor. I could have easily beaten that man," Weslyn added pointedly.

"Yes, but I was in such an advantageous position, I couldn't help but interfere," Scylax responded, a strange gleam entering his eyes.

He stood up and cleared his throat, the gleam dispelling. "Come on. Looks like they're done."

* * *

"Casus, I value your opinion. I have for a long time now. But are you _absolutely_ sure that this is true?"

"Yes, Ozpin. There's no other way to explain it. The boy has a form of trauma-induced schizophrenia. Think of it as an very aggressive form of PTSD. Violent episodes associated with hearing voices, reliving memories, and fragmented personality. He has to be mentally unstable. There's no other explanation. The boy is clinically insane."

"You do have treatment, I assume," Ozpin said, rubbing his forehead in thought.

"Yes, but the dosages are either too mild or not effective. His body chemistry is quite strange. This is my first encounter with a reptilian fauna, after all. I'll need to phone some collogues for advice."

"You do that. Thank you, Casus."

"Just doing my job, Headmaster." Dr. Sano picked up his papers and walked out of Ozpin's office.

Ozpin buried his head in his hands. _Just what sort of monster did I enroll into my school?_

* * *

"So, that's pretty much everything," Hannibal said, picking up the groceries.

"Yep. I am looking forward to that stew," Weslyn added.

Diana had hit her crash. She hugged Hannibal's arm, hardly conscious. Diana loved sugar highs, but never seemed to remember the terrible crashes she got from the indulgence.

"So, not sure if you knew this, but Hannibal is actually a pretty decent cook," Weslyn said, looking at Scylax.

"I don't really eat much anyway, unless it's the end of the month, or after strenuous physical activity," was his response.

 _Feeding patterns like a snake,_ Weslyn noted. _Strange_.

"Well, I do hope you at least try some," Weslyn said.

Scylax shrugged.

"I do need to debrief with Ozpin before I get back to the room. I'll see you there."

Scylax walked off into the fading sunlight, towards the administrative building.

Weslyn sighed.

* * *

Scylax exited the elevator and walked into Ozpin's office.

'Office' would be a great misuse of the word. Scylax walked into Ozpin's clock tower.

Gears of the giant clock were turning overhead, while a circular balustrade circled the entire circular room, supported by circular pillars. Directly behind Ozpin's large desk was the clock itself, almost the entire wall covered in translucent glass, tinged with green, overlooking the campus of Beacon. The desk itself was glass with a wooden frame. Inside, there were more turning gears underneath yellow tinged glass. A holo emitter was supposedly situated in the mess. The clock, however, was fake. A cool aesthetic, but an ultimately just a regular window.

Scylax sat down to the in front of the right side of the desk, facing four other chairs situated on the left side. The room was silent, save for the turning of the bronze gears overhead. Scylax surveyed his surroundings under the cover of his hood, his neck barely moving.

The elevator dinged, and the bronze doors slid open to reveal Ozpin himself. Masking his surprise, he quickly walked over to his desk, pouring a cup of coffee after sitting down in his metallic chair.

"Coffee?" he offered. Scylax shook his head no.

"Coffee and I don't usually do very well together."

The two sat in silence as Ozpin took a big sip of the drink.

"Team RWBY will be here in a few minutes. They were just settling into their rooms to change. I didn't expect you to arrive so early."

"You changed, the windows again, haven't you?" Scylax said, looking at Ozpin.

"I'm sorry, but I haven't changed with windows since last year."

"Do you remember a certain Cardain Dust employee coming unannounced to discuss changing your Dust intake plan? It would have happened a little over a year and a half ago."

"Strangely, yes."

"He was involved in a money laundering scheme. Pretending to be a Cardain company rep, he would go around, getting big businesses to sign contracts changing their intake plans to something more expensive than their own plan previous. But really, nothing would change, and he would pocket the money."

"He did look rather nervous, and even more so when I turned him down. I am currently under the impression that he died in an accident shortly after leaving Beacon campus."

Scylax slightly cocked his head to the side, his emerald eyes practically gleaming with a wolfish smile.

Ozpin attempted to look unruffled. "It appears they are here."

The door opened with another welcoming ding, and four figures walked into the room.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _OMG THE CLIFFHANGER UGH IM HORRIBLE_**

 ** _Nah. I have no idea when the next chapters will be out, for I am on vacation._**

 ** _After that cheerful thought, thank you for the ten of you that have actually gotten past chapters 5-8. I am eternally grateful that someone is at the very least enjoying my work. If you aren't, well, what the hell's wrong with you? Tell me how bad my work is so I can fix it._**

 ** _Again, thanks for reading! I really am enjoying writing this._**


	7. Chapters 21-24

_Two faces. Hopeful. Happy._

 _Gone._

 _A new face. Grim. Determined. Watchful._

 _Two brown eyes, gleaming with worry._

 _Joy. Happiness. Care._

 _Love._

 _In the briefest of instants, it, too, was gone._

 _And I was truly alone in the world._

* * *

Chapter 21: Warnings and Apologies, neither Heeded

The four teenage girls sat opposite to Scylax, their postures and demeanors drastically different.

First, there was a very pale girl, wearing a white bolero jacket coupled with a thigh-length white and light blue skirt. She had a large ponytail of white hair that extended down her back. She sat in a very regal pose, her light blue eyes sharp and piercing.

The girl next to her was lounging in her chair, appearing bored. She had long, loose blond hair, with light purple eyes, wore a tan vest with gold piping and a low-cut crop top, showing off her not insignificant, *achem*, build. She also wore black shorts and a skirt. Her metallic gloves sparkled menacingly.

A third girl sat quietly, not casually. Alert. Scylax would have to watch this one. She had amber eyes, slightly titled, marking her as a fauna. She had long, wavy black hair, of which she wore a black bow, tied to the top of her head. She wore a black-buttoned vest with coattails, coupled with a white sleeveless undershirt that exposed her midriff. She also wore white shorts with black stockings. Her light olive complexion fix well with her outfit.

The forth girl-

Scylax was out of his chair, standing in front of the girl that had knocked him off the road.

"You!" he said, pointing a finger in her face, his own covered with an ugly scowl.

"Me?" she said hesitantly, pointing to herself. Her face briefly lit up in recognition, only to sag in despair.

"Yes, you! The one who flung me off the road chasing that truck!"

Ozpin tensed, his hand on his cane. This sudden outburst was unusual. Scylax had proven himself to be a very good controller of his emotions. Something wasn't right.

The yellow girl was up in seconds. "Don't point at her like that," she commanded, slipping protectively between Scylax and the red girl.

"I would advise you sit down," the pale girl added, quickly drawing a thin and very sharp rapier with an interesting crossguard.

The fauna girl was out of her seat, her hands going to waist where she kept her strange scabbard for her sword. "Calm down. There's one of you and four of us. You're outmatched," she said in an even voice.

"Now, you see, the problem is you're wrong," Scylax responded with a nasty grin, setting himself into a fighting stance, his knives flicking into his hands from drop-down sheaths concealed in the sleeves of his hoodie.

"There's one of me, and only four of you."

"Please, can we all calm down?" Ozpin said, standing up from behind his desk.

All five teens looked at Ozpin. Seconds passed in silence.

Then, laughter.

Scylax was doubled over; laughing so hard he could barely stand. It was unnerving, empty laughter.

Then, it was gone, replaced with his usual soulless look.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel. I just wanted to see your reaction," he said, sitting down.

The girls exchanged nervous looks. They too sat down, all of them at attention, as if expecting another sudden outburst.

"I would like to add that I apologized," the red girl said.

"You see," Scylax responded, his neutral tone having returned, "speed is a very vague term. Your speed obviously comes from your Semblance, but I can see only three reasons for hitting me.

"First: You did it on purpose. I'm going to eliminate that one, because you have no reason to. Second, your Semblance allows you to move so fast your reflexes can't keep up. Third, you simply weren't paying attention."

"I said I was sorry…" she said, looking down.

"All right, enough of that," Ozpin interrupted, sitting back down. "I would like you to meet Team RWBY. The red is Ruby Rose, the yellow is Yang Xiao Long, the black and white is Blake Belladonna, and the white is Weiss Schnee. They took on the Black Rose case a few months back. While they have some knowledge, they need guidance. I was hoping you could fill them in when you accompany them."

"Wait, what?" Weiss stood up, looking cross. "You never mentioned anything about anyone accompanying us!"

"Honestly, Weiss, please try to control yourself," Ozpin responded. "Besides, it's not like I can stop him." He motioned to Scylax.

Weiss sat back down, throwing an angry look at Scylax.

Scylax, who had been reclining in the seat, sat up. He called up the holo-image, much to Ozpin's surprise.

Scylax noticed Ozpin's raised eyebrows. "You did it quite a few times last time I was here."

Looking back at the map of a city block in downtown, he zoomed in on a warehouse complex. "Now, here's where a local cell has set up for the next week…"

* * *

When the elevator doors closed, signaling Scylax's departure, Ozpin closed the holo-image with a wave of his hand. He sighed, sitting down behind his desk once again.

"So, what do you think of him, girls?"

"Personally, I could tell that he did not want to work with us," Blake started.

"Yeah! Totally gave off a strange feeling. His Aura is kinda messed up, too," Ruby interjected.

"I feel like we should ditch him. Can we opt out of his help? We've been doing fine on our own," Yang added wearily.

"I agree. I don't want him," Weiss concluded. The girls relaxed in their chairs, waiting for Ozpin's decision.

"I believe I told you before, girls. I can't stop him. And he's very involved with the Black Rose, so I thought he could offer help. And, he did."

"That would explain how he knew to much about them to begin with," Yang said with a dismissive tone.

"Hey. Why did we never get his name?" Blake asked, suddenly alert as the thought crossed her mind.

"He didn't want me to call him by his name or title, for fear of recognition."

The four sat in expectant silence.

"Well?" Weiss asked inquisitively.

"His name is Scylax Grendel," Ozpin said, looking at the four. Seeing a look of realization on only Weiss's face, he proceeded. "You might know his by his title.

"The Weed."

Stunned silence returned.

"You mean, _the_ Weed? The one that nearly took down Black Rose by himself? That Weed?" Ruby asked excitedly, nearly jumping from her seat.

"Yes, that Weed. Now you wonder why he seemed so personally involved in the subject matter."

"But seriously, why is he so invested? Why does he want to destroy the Black Rose? The news told us about him, but not his motive," Blake asked, unusually excited as well.

Ozpin looked at the bronze doors of the elevator, as if to check that Scylax was not hiding behind them. He turned back to the girls.

"That boy has lost everything that he ever loved to that terrible organization.

"And he's spent the last two years getting revenge."

* * *

Chapter 22: A Cover Removed

Scylax walked into the room in a bad mood. He had to work with _that_ team? Sure, there were many stories of their exploits, but he preferred to work alone. Too many memories had been revisited tonight. He hoped his book would rid him of his woes.

Weslyn was lying on her bed, reading her own book. She was incredibly cute in her pajamas, which were of course brown, with little Beowolves running across an invisible plane. Her ears were flicking to and fro as Diana and Hannibal talked.

Diana was human again, discussing with Hannibal about what they were to do tomorrow. Hannibal had his shirt off, exposing his abs and six pack. Scylax went into the bathroom to change.

He took off his hoodie and shirt, staring at his scars. More memories. Painful memories.

Struggling to put on his thin undershirt, he accidentally knocked over a toothbrush on the sink. He went to pick it up, noticing his hand was shaking. He looked into the mirror, situated above the sink.

He saw her face, standing next to his.

Oh no. They were coming back again.

* * *

Scylax walked out of the bathroom, in his grey sweatpants and white undershirt. Something felt… wrong about his aura. Just a feeling he gave off. Everyone ignored him, as they all settled down to sleep.

* * *

Weslyn woke up suddenly. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she heard something unfamiliar. Maybe it was a the remnants of a dream, the memories already forgotten. She sat up. Diana was fast asleep, her sugar crash having taken a toll on her. Hannibal slept as deep as he always did.

At least he didn't snore.

The door to the room was ominously open. Even in Weslyn's near-perfect night vision, the outside hall looked fearfully dark.

A noise. Movement in the hall. A bare foot, pressed against the carpet. Barely in the range of her hearing.

The noise again. The footsteps were moving away, towards the stairwell. The dorm they were in was situated two floors above ground at minimum, and four floors maximum, excluding the roof.

Weslyn slid out of bed, her ears switching this was and that, straining to hear anything else.

The door to the stairwell opened with a squeak. Weslyn looked back into the room. Her two friends were unchanged. She crept into the hall. The green wallpaper seemed to light up against the ominous dark cloud in front of her.

* * *

Scylax looked up at the stars.

So distant, cold, lifeless, uncaring. Yet full of life, glorious beings of light. Their very existence was paradox to his mind. So far away, so distant. It made things here seem insignificant. Scylax wasn't sure how or why he found comfort in these celestial beings, but he couldn't deny their beauty. He swung his legs over the edge, admiring the night. The cool nighttime breeze made him shiver. He couldn't stay up here for long. Already, he was feeling his feet turn cold.

He heard the roof door open behind him.

He turned around in surprise to see Weslyn, though he wasn't sure if it was necessarily surprise. Who else could have heard him?

"So your ears _do_ work," he said, an attempt at a joke.

Weslyn walked over silently, sitting down next to him. She swung her legs over the side. The two sat in an accepted and comfortable silence. The stars continued to gleam above, glittering endlessly.

"I don't sleep well the first night anywhere," he started.

Weslyn merely nodded.

He shifted his position uncomfortably.

"I recently learned that I will be participating in very few duels in the upcoming weeks," Scylax continued.

"And?"

"You asked about my Semblance, and I said I would demonstrate it in a duel. I don't know when that duel will be, though," he said, looking back up to the sky.

"I was wondering if you wanted an explanation now," he finished.

Silence.

"Sure," Weslyn said, standing up and quickly launching a roundhouse kick towards Scylax's face.

Scylax jerked back in complete surprise as Weslyn's kick grazed the side of his face, shoving him off the roof.

He grabbed the windowsill of a window on the forth floor. Clutching with both hands, he realized how much the cold outside had affected him.

"What was that f-" the window that Scylax was holding onto exploded outward as a golden metallic fist punched through, accompanied by a red shockwave that blew Scylax off the windowsill.

* * *

"Excited! Excited! Excited!" Ruby repeated over and over like an overly annoying dog, running around the room in preparation for tomorrow's tasks.

Blake, though equally excited, was much more stoic. She sat in her usual position, reading a book on top of her bed.

"Ruby! Calm down!" Weiss's patience finally broke as she spat out the words. "I know you like vigilantes, but his story is a lot less glamorous than you think!"

Ruby stopped on a dime, her pajamas settling around her. With a fake look of dismay, she turned toward Weiss, who was looking adorably annoyed, her hands on her hips and her dress-like nightwear. Still as cute as she was angry.

"Don't even bother, Weiss," Yang said tiredly, sitting by the window and reassembling her Duel Ranged Shot Gauntlets. "Once Ruby gets an image or idea in her head, it can only be broken by real experiences."

Ruby turned towards Yang, an upset look on her face. "At least let me act like a child every now and then, Yang! Besides, he's like the guy I read about in books! Bringing down a crime organization with sheer willpower and tenacity!" She punched a fist out, striking a pose. "Stories like that inspired me to be a Huntress!"

Yang looked expectantly at Weiss, who sighed heavily. Looking up, she began.

"The Schnee Dust Company has had a few run-ins with Scylax. He stole food from several of our facilities, but stole dust from only one. There are several accounts of him stealing from other companies, as well."

"Why does everyone steal from the Schnee companies?" Blake whispered to Yang, who just sighed and giggled.

"I literally know nothing else about him, besides what Ozpin told us," Weiss said, sitting back in a formal pose, as was her habit.

"Oooooh. Mysterious. I like it!" Ruby spun and jumped, landing on top of her bunk, shaking the frame.

"I must say, I am excited. I've heard he's pretty fast," Blake mentioned, shifting her position on the bunk.

"But you guys heard Ozpin. He's mentally unstable!" Weiss said, still exasperated with idea of working with him.

"Yeah, I'm still a little shaky on that," Yang started, but was interrupted by a sound at the window. She recoiled in surprise as she saw a pair of eyes looking back at her, then looking up. Feeling her rage build, she dawned a glove and activated her Semblance.

* * *

"Perv!" Scylax barely heard yelled after his falling form. Attempting to control his fall, he spread his arms eagle-style before he hit an evergreen straight on. He managed to grab its boughs to slow his fall, but not enough to stop him. He finished the maneuver with a roll on the ground.

Then he sighed and fell on his back.

Checking his body to make sure the glass hadn't cut him anywhere, he grinned, and then winced. _I didn't know that smiling could hurt so much_. He assessed his current state.

The quick movements, such as barely dodging the fist on the window and his falls, had warmed Scylax up. But he hurt, _everywhere_. He pulled himself off the ground, clutching his cheek. That kick was sure to leave a bruise. Limping back to the door of the dorm building, he considered how he would deal with Yang.

* * *

He found her in the hallway, still in her regular attire, her eyes red as crimson. She was wearing both of her gloves, and periodically squeezing and relaxing her fingers in rage. The three other girls looked fearfully from their cracked door.

"You!" she nearly shouted, pointing at him. "What the fuck do you think you were doing?!"

"I'm sorry. A friend kicked me off the roof. Your sill was the first thing I grabbed on to."

"You think that's a good excuse? What were you even doing on the roof at this hour, anyways?"

"It's my fault," Weslyn said, running up to the enraged Yang. "I kicked him off the roof. He wasn't doing anything dirty, I swear."

"And just who are you?" Yang asked, turning to face Weslyn.

"I'm Weslyn Brunneis, part of Team SHDW. I'm Scylax's partner."

"And I would like to apologize over and over again. But really, this is not the place to do it," Scylax said, sliding past Yang and motioning down the hall. Several doors of other teams were opening in confused and tired anger. Yang quickly backed off and made for her door. "This isn't over," she whispered angrily, and then door closed.

* * *

"I assure you, I would be thanking you right now if you hadn't _kicked me off the roof_ ," Scylax whispered angrily as they climbed down to their floor. "Why did you even _do_ that?"

"I thought you were gonna be all badass and dodge out of the way just in time, or something like that," Weslyn whispered, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"It was really cold, and I'm flattered that you have that impression of me. And you're my teammate, so I imagine that you want to know the full extent of my abilities. But that does not excuse you for, I don't know, _kicking me in the face_."

"I said I'm sorry," she said back.

"Whatever. I think I can try and sleep now," Scylax said, reaching the second floor of the dorm and walking down their hallway.

Weslyn followed close behind, and the door closed with a click. Hannibal and Diana were still as asleep as always.

"Goodnight?" Weslyn offered, sliding back into her covers.

She was greeted with only curt silence.

* * *

Chapter 23: An Appalling Revelation

 _Many of the giant's attendants had survived._

 _Their loyalty towards their former master had been great. Astounding. Irrational, even._

 _Many rose to claim their master's place, and bloodshed and chaos ensued. As the attendants they were, many did not understand the significance of the giant's death, or its purpose. But they all shared one common drive._

 _Revenge._

 _And revenge is never without punishment._

* * *

Regardless of how late he slept, Hannibal always felt tired waking up.

Hannibal knew what being tired looked like. It wasn't the stereotypical joke of people barely awake on Mondays, but more of crippling exhaustion combined with fatigue. Hannibal had seen in many soldier's faces during his time in an Atlas-style boot camp his parents so proudly ran here in Vale. He himself was subjected to sleepless nights and labor-filled days, leading to the understanding of the true meaning of fatigue and an appreciation of sleep (at least, that was the excuse).

But one look at Scylax Grendel, he no longer felt tired.

The boy's green eyes looked like the epitome of pain. They were red and puffy; the whole idea of actually visually seeing the world must have been a stressful, and equally laughable, idea. His seemingly short brown hair was astoundingly messy. His reaction to people would be a killer look, or, to his team, a menial grunt. Starting today's Grimm Anatomy class with Mr. Port must have seemed like torture, even with the greatly reduced workday that was the weekend.

Actually thinking? Who would be so cruel?

Regardless, Hannibal led his team into classroom and sat in their place. When Scylax obviously struggled to stay balanced on his chair, Mr. Port actually asked, to the great humor of the class, if he needed any help. With a surprisingly polite 'no', Scylax righted himself, and Mr. Port began the lecture.

"The Beowulf can come in many shapes and sizes, but three separate sub-categories can be seen from their behavior and attack strategy…"

* * *

The bell sounded, and Hannibal closed his notebook and slid his small bag onto his shoulder. The four stepped out into the hall, making their way to Dr. Oobleck's classroom.

"Hey Scy, do you want some help?" Diana said in an almost passable genuine tone.

Scylax waved her off, and Diana shrugged. The four continued walking.

Suddenly, Scylax stopped and turned around, fast walking back to the classroom.

"Sorry!" he called behind him in a suddenly alert tone. "I need to ask the teacher something. I'll meet you at class."

* * *

Peter Port looked up in surprise from his book as he heard the knock at the door. "Come in," he called, and the door silently slid open. The new boy walked in quietly: his soft-soled shoes barely making a sound. He had a strange smile on his face that did not fit his face.

"I'm sorry sir. I don't believe I've formally introduced myself," the boy said in an equally strange joyful tone.

"I know who you are, son. Scylax, I believe?" Seeing the nod of confirmation, he continued. "I'm sorry, but if this is about notes, you have to get them from another student. I would advise one of your teammates for that role."

"Thanks, sir!" was the reply, but the boy made no move to leave. He stubbornly stood in front of his desk; his eyes had a manic, unhinged look to them.

Port closed his book and stood. "What is it that I can help you with, son?"

Instantly, as if a switch had been flipped, the boy's smile was gone. "I would think you would know."

"Unfortunately, you will have to jumpstart the old machinery," Port responded, his jovial tone never lessening.

"Does the name Claudius ring any bells?"

Port froze, his response dying in his throat.

The boy's smile returned, but it was little more than a bearing of teeth.

"That seems to have gotten a reaction."

"I haven't worked with them for years," Port stuttered, but Scylax stopped him with a raised finger to his mouth and a hush.

"I know that. If you were, I wouldn't be talking to you about it. I've actually come here to ask a question."

"I've already told everything I know to Ozpin."

A single eyebrow rose dramatically. "Everything?" the boy said, stretching out the word. "Because if I recall, Ozpin still doesn't know about your dearest brother."

Port seemed to visibly deflate, his protests dying on his lips. "No, he doesn't."

"I would advise you tell _everything_ to Ozpin, and soon. Because, whether you like it or not, we will be going after him. I'm sure you want him to survive."

The boy turned and headed for the door, his footsteps making no sound.

"That will be all, Professor. I look forward to our next lesson!" The door closed behind him.

The professor stood in shocked silence, trying to process what just happened. He sat down, head in hands, turning over ideas in his mind.

With a sigh, he took out his scroll and made the call. A clicking sound was heard as the scroll made the connection.

"Yes, Peter?" a familiar voice answered.

* * *

"Thank you, Peter. I cannot express my gratitude towards you. Yes, you will be fine." A friendly click ended the call, and Ozpin sighed. He had expected this sort of confrontation, but definitely not the outcome. Of course, Scylax's intimate knowledge of Professor Port's involvement (or denouncement, depending on the point of view) of his ties to the Black Rose raises a whole new host of questions.

And if Scylax had known that Peter used to work with the Black Rose, it was possible that a student's life was in grave, grave danger.

* * *

The door opened suddenly, and Dr. Oobleck stopped mid sentence. The new boy was late, never a good first impression.

The boy quickly made his way to his team, standing in front of his seat. "I'm sorry, sir," he began in an appropriately embarrassed tone. "I had to discuss some things with Professor Port."

"Nevermind that now. You are excused, but just this once. I do not appreciate tardiness, Mr. Grendel."

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes," Oobleck said, zipping in front of another row in the lecture hall. "I believe we were just starting to discuss the Bombardment of Signal Academy. Can someone explain why Admiral Thrawn chose this course of action?"

A hand went up in the front. "Signal appeared to be a military target, and Thrawn did not want to risk turning his back to an enemy as he advanced down the coast."

"Well done, Mr. Tourkouaz. Thrawn was also not above risking civilian casualties, as well, for he was known for his ruthlessness during the Siege of Vale. Now, as Thrawn began his march down the coast…"

* * *

"I didn't realize we were in the same class as you!" Weslyn exclaimed, quickly rushing up to Riviera as the teams filed away from the class.

The fauna turned in surprise, a look of recognition seemingly drawn on her face. "Wes…lyn?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah. That's me." By now, the rest of Weslyn's team had made their way over to the two.

"Who's this?" Gabbro Malus asked Riviera, as he walked over to the group.

"Oh, just some people I met," Riviera said offhandedly. "Weslyn, I would like you to meet Gabbro Malus, our team leader. Behind him are Triton Tourkouaz and Nequam." The two other boys were leaning against the wall of the hall, talking. With a wave from Riviera, they made their way over to the growing group.

"Well, to formally introduce my team, this is Hannibal Liatora, Diana Vikat, and Scylax Grendel. And I am Weslyn Brunneis. Nice to meet you." She offered her hand to Gabbro, who absentmindedly took it. He was staring intently at Hannibal, who was just under his height. Gabbro was wearing a black and white speckled overcoat, with a black undercoat and grey tie peaking out from his neck.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too. So how was fighting Caer?" he asked Hannibal.

"A challenging opponent, but that was what I expected. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. I just get a weird read from that kid. Whatever. Let's go, guys. I have some things to do." He rudely brushed past Weslyn and Diana, and continued down the hall without looking back.

"I'm sorry. He's a bit rude, sometimes," Riviera said, carefully circling around the four before continuing down the hall after the rest of her team. "We'll catch up later, ok? Meet me by Busckart's Café at four!" she said, jogging after her team leader.

"I don't know if I can make that time," Scylax said. "I have some physical assessment to attend to. I'll see you guys later." He walked off.

Weslyn watched him turn the corner of the hall, and turned back to Hannibal. "So, glorious leader, where to?"

"I was actually thinking that we needed a bit of exercise too…" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"You're a good actor," Diana laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder.

"No, I'm serious. I want to get some conditioning in for us today."

Diana eyed him carefully, gauging the sincerity in his eyes. "Fine," she huffed, walking down the hall. Hannibal followed, accompanied by a reluctant Weslyn.

* * *

Chapter 24: Bury My Woes Away, Sweet Ambrosia

Dr. Sano inspected at the boy standing in front of him. He appeared nervous and uncomfortable. Clearly fidgeting with his hands, the boy could not meet his eyes as he spoke.

"Doctor, I… I need some help," he managed to force out.

"Yes?"

"That treatment for my… condition, that you gave me during my stay as a patient… it worked, to a degree. And I was wondering… if I could have some more."

"Of course! I'm just happy to know they're having a positive affect. Now, let's get our minds off such a negative subject and get on with the training."

The two had met in the gym, a large building with an indoor track; several exercise machines, and lots of other physically conditioning-related items and tools. Few people were using the gym; it was a perfect time for conditioning.

"Alright, let's start with a lap jogging, and then two laps full speed. Is that doable?"

"Easily."

And thus, another long test began.

* * *

Scylax was doubled over, hands on his knees, panting. One of the biggest problems with being cold-blooded was temperature control. Strenuous exercise always had this effect on him. He didn't sweat like some mammals, so he panted. It usually worked, but exhaustion was never easy on the mind. That doctor sure knew his anatomy. Scylax was sure he rediscovered at least three new muscles today.

"Ready for our final test?" Dr. Sano asked, walking over to the hunched figure.

Scylax straightened, stretching his back. He was ready, and nodded.

"Good. This next test will be one of reflexes and pattern recognition. Come this way."

The doctor led Scylax into out of the gym and back into the main building. Specifically, the student lounge.

There was, unsurprisingly, no one there. It was the weekend, and there were far more comfortable places to relax. In the room itself were several screens, most hooked up to several gaming consoles. Sano went up to an older console, one titled "Modular Function".

"I was always a fan of the classics," he said, motioning Scylax forward.

The screen was arranged in a sixteen by sixteen pattern, with each square being about three centimeters across.

"The objective is simple. You are to push a color, and the screen will change. Then, as fast as you can, select the same color for the next twenty seconds. The screen will change every five seconds if you don't select a color. Ready?"

With a nod of confirmation, the game began. Every section (256 of them, to be exact) lit up with a different color, some of them almost blending together, but still recognizably different. As time slowed around him, Scylax smiled inwardly.

This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

The lights danced as Scylax selected light after light after light. The doctor had never seen this sort of speed.

Pushing button after button after button, Scylax's hand blurred across the panel. When the twenty seconds were up, the machine informed him he had set a new high score.

Scylax stood up and faced the doctor, a suspiciously blank expression on his face. "The reflexes seem to be just fine, doctor."

Sano managed to close his mouth completely before responding. "I think that's enough for today. Get yourself something to eat. I'm sure that the regular exercise routines should be enough to get you back into shape. Come by my office later for your meds."

"Thank you, Doctor," Scylax said, slipping out the door into the hallway.

Sano looked back at the machine, waiting expectantly for its next opponent. He opened the high score board, seeing whose hard work and dreams had been crushed by the boy with the emerald eyes.

A sardonic smile appeared on his face as he recognized the initials of Ruby Rose.

* * *

When Scylax heard the door to the lounge close, he ducked around the corner and let out the breath he had been holding in a pathetic whimper. _Fuck, that_ hurt, he thought, clutching his hands to his head, sliding down the wall to the ground. This happened sometimes; the flashbacks weren't always faces and visions, but sometimes he got away with only shadow pain. Scylax mentally berated himself for having activated his Semblance, even if it was only a small brush on the surface of his true capabilities. He had been working hard on his ability to mask its activation, but always at the cost of pain.

Scylax had spent the last six months specifically training his regular combat skills and other practical abilities, using his Semblance when only necessary. Ironically, as his reflexes became even sharper, his body fitter, his mind clearer, his Semblance grew in power. What had at first been a blur to an unusually fast boy became a shadow compared to current abilities.

But, fuck, it _hurt_.

But all the pain in the world was a thousand times more welcome than losing your mind.

Scylax was a source on that.

Footsteps, walking down the hall. Barely paying attention, Scylax curled up into a ball, his arms around his knees, his head down, trying to will the pain away.

The footsteps stopped in front of him.

Scylax looked up in surprise to see Team RWBY standing over him.

* * *

 ** _Holy SHIT that took a long time to write. I apologize, I was on vacation, and I barely had time to write. The next four chapters will definitely come faster. Other than that, thanks for reading!_**

 ** _And if any of you are interested in learning the origin of the other character's names, just ask._**


	8. Chapters 25-28

_A grain of sand, lost at sea_

 _A journey for all eternity_

 _Those with open eyes that care not to see_

 _Are those who think ignorance is free_

 _What is to be of me?_

 _One who thinks so very differently?_

* * *

Chapter 25: When I Look Into Your Eyes

With a playful look on her face, Diana completed her first pull-up with practiced ease. Up, down, up, down. In a burst of movement, she completed her set by pulling herself into the air, followed by landing and balancing perfectly on the bar, a small grin across her face.

Hannibal nodded in satisfaction. Turning away from Diana, he watched Weslyn finish her set with much less flair. Dropping to the ground, both girls joined him in the middle of the room.

"How was that, glorious leader?" Diana teased.

"Well enough."

"Are we finally finished?" Weslyn huffed, doubling over from the exertion.

"Almost. I wanted to get a little sparing practice. Either of you care to join?"

"But you haven't done a thing since we got here!" Weslyn protested.

"Not true. While you guys have been doing your sets, I've been lifting weights. Unfortunately, the leader from JACL decided he wanted to as well." Hannibal motioned over to Jaeger, who was currently lifting an obscenely large bar.

"Whatever. I'm up for it," Diana said, stretching. "Lemme just get my scythes."

* * *

"I don't know why you still call them scythes. They look more like sickles to me," Weslyn asked, retrieving her sniper from her locker.

"Well, more accurately, they probably are sickles," Diana said, stifling a grin. "But scythes just sound so much _cooler_."

"Gotta agree with you on that one."

The two girls entered the sparing arena, only to find a match in progress.

* * *

Aaryan was struggling against Caer. The giant of a teen was overwhelmingly strong. Aaryan's swordplay helped, but he couldn't break Caer's guard. Luckily for him, Caer couldn't break his. Not with brute strength, anyway.

He slid another blow off the metal hilt of his halberd, using the force of the strike to spin, bringing the blade around the other side. For once, Caer actually appeared surprised as the blade hit the top of his shoulder, enough so to knock him off balance.

Sure, the halberd was hardly a noble's weapon, but what works works, and Aaryan loved his 'Castigate'.

Whatever. At least he could appreciate the beauty.

Caer quickly righted himself, throwing an unexpectedly swift strike towards the now exposed chest of Aaryan as his halberd bounced off Caer's strong aura. The strike was partially lessened by a well-timed dodge, but the force still knocked off his feet and out of the wring. He landed softly on his feet, having turned the force of the blow into a graceful backflip.

"Nice job, as always," he grunted, examining his armor's front. Caer merely nodded, a wolfish smile on his face.

"Nice swordsplay, if you want to use your sword skills with a halberd. Why do you even use that stupid stick, anyway? I've seen you fight with a proper weapon."

"I like it. And while I might be okay with the sword, sometimes I enjoy this more," Aaryan said, lifting his halberd and mag-locking it to the back of his armor. "Besides," he said, motioning to Caer's shoulder, "you can't say it isn't effective."

Caer scowled when he saw the gouge the blade had made in his shoulder pad. The elastic metal was still as strong as it was maneuverable, but the gouge would be hard to fix. "Thanks for that," he snarled.

"No problem," Aaryan replied, his accent as annoying as ever. "We might want to call it there, though. It appears we have some new contenders."

Hannibal and Diana walked up, the two facing Aaryan and Caer. "It's all yours," Aaryan said helpfully, walking past the two. Caer simply nodded.

"Alright, Weslyn, I want you to spot us. Diana, please don't kill me," Hannibal added, unsheathing his sword.

"I'll try not to," Diana said helpfully, he eyes gleaming in anticipation.

The wring was a ten meter white circle, made up and surrounded by soft turf. The scanners above the wring measured the aura of those within the arena. Both participants' auras were full green, though Hannibal's was noticeably bigger than Diana's. Though the two had been fighting with and against each other for years, Diana knew he held an advantage. Hannibal was dreadfully unpredictable.

Diana held her scythes in an X position, eager awaiting the timer. Hannibal held his greatsword in front of him, at the ready.

Weslyn began the countdown. "Five, four, three, two, one, begin!"

Diana immediately launched herself forward, going for a double strike at Hannibal's midsection. Hannibal blocked, quickly leaning back and letting the blades slide off his own before shoving her back. He quickly went in for an overhead lunge, to which Diana responded to by crouching down, scything her legs across Hannibal's. Both fell to the ground before quickly rebounding back up, backing off. Jumping back in, Diana scythed her weapons in an outward X. Hannibal stepped back, but his sword was swept to the side by a glancing blow of Diana's scythe. She reversed her weapons and made an inward X slice, catching the off balance Hannibal across the chest before he could kick Diana in the stomach, forcing her back. Stumbling back from the unexpected strike, Hannibal saw Diana's irises turn red, before returning to their normal purple.

This time, Hannibal went back on the offensive, making an overhead slice with his sword. Block by both of the scythes, the two briefly locked weapons, before Hannibal managed to shove Diana off and quickly strike out an elbow, catching her in the cheek. She stumbled back, allowing Hannibal to swing his sword low, scything Diana off her feet. Before she could get back up, Hannibal placed the tip of his sword at her neck, and the match was over.

"Match!" Weslyn called, jogging up to the two duelists. Hannibal helped a pouting Diana to her feet.

"Great job, you two. And good control, Diana. We don't want Hannibal to end up in the infirmary already, now do we?"

"Speak for yourself," Diana mumbled, replacing her scythes in her belt.

"Oh, cheer up. If you had activated your Semblance, I doubt I would be able to hold you. The whole point of this is to get you not only used to fighting in a regular and more casual style, but to make your core strength and fighting style better as a whole. It also can help your control of your Semblance."

Diana looked up into Hannibal's eyes. Those same eyes from that day…

* * *

 _Diana was crying again. She thought she was used to the teasing and looks by now, but the words still cut deep. People whom she thought of as friends, making fun of her. She had no friends now. Not even her parents saw her as their child._

 _What was her crime? Some horrendous or embarrassing event, forever scarring her memory? Possibly something illegal? Some dishonor or shame upon her family name?_

 _No. She was_ different _._

 _Just a freak that didn't belong._

 _"You're special," her parents would say, then shrug her off._

 _No matter. She didn't need friends. She liked who she was, and if they couldn't accept it, then it was fine by her._

 _She almost believed her own lies._

 _"Hey."_

 _Diana looked up, wondering if the crowd of tormenters had returned for another round. She was surprised to see a new boy, his small grey suit looking ridiculous on his first grade frame._

 _"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with no nervousness or hesitation, almost sounding like genuine concern._

 _"No," Diana whimpered, curling into a tighter ball. What could this boy possibly want from her?_

 _"Those kids from earlier were mean. I don't think you're a freak. Why would they say that?"_

 _"You haven't seen what I can do," Diana responded, a hint of warning in her tone as she slowly grew suspicious of this boy. Could he just be leading her on to tease her later?_

 _"Can you show me?"_

 _Diana was starting to get annoyed. Why would anyone want to see her? Becoming more and more convinced that this was some sort of ploy, she stood up and activated her Semblance._

 _Her irises turned red, and an almost inaudible hum was heard around her. She grinned, and suddenly leaped into the air, her small form back flipping up almost four meters before landing gracefully. As soon as she landed, she dashed towards the boy in a burst of speed fueled by her anger and pain. She stopped, going from full speed to completely still, nearly face to face with the boy._

 _She felt the energy drain out of her body as her Semblance deactivated, the physical exertion catching up to her small body._

 _The boy's eyes were filled with something akin to awe, with a little bit of fear. He was staring at her, his jaw down by his feet. For seconds, they stood still. Diana mentally prepared herself for the teasing, the name-calling._

 _"COOOOL!"_

* * *

 _"I have a surprise for you," Hannibal teased as the two walked home from their fifth grade graduation party. Hannibal's parents were waiting for the two down the sidewalk in the family car._

 _"What is it?" Diana asked excitedly. Hannibal wasn't exactly known for his surprises._

 _A gleam of anticipation entered his grey eyes. "You'll see. Come on!" he shouted behind him, sprinting the car._

 _Diana, grinning to herself, quickly sprinted alongside him, then past him, jumping into the waiting car door. Hannibal was there seconds later, huffing from exertion._

 _The two buckled themselves into the mag-locks, and eagerly awaited the news._

 _Hannon Liatora and his wife were waiting for the two, a look of dissatisfaction on their faces. They turned around in silence, eyeing the two eleven-year-olds._

 _"We need to talk to you two about something," Hannon started, his authoritative voice matching perfectly with his grizzled figure, touched off with his grey stubble on his chin._

 _"You two have been doing very well in your grades these past years, and I've looked into changing schools."_

 _"Why?" Diana immediately asked, suddenly panicked. "I've actually made friends here! I don't wanna go!"_

 _"Let me finish."_

 _Diana waited, appropriately chastised._

 _"So, I sent them your forms and grades, as well as your qualifications to a school. It's a very good school, one I think you'll enjoy."_

 _Diana suddenly felt excited. Could this be? She shot a glance at Hannibal, who was struggling to conceal a huge grin. Her heart leaping in her chest, she turned to face Hannon again, who had dropped the authority figure act and was smiling ear to ear._

 _"You've both been accepted into Beacon!"_

 _Once the cheering had calmed down, and the group had gotten on the road to drop Diana off at her home, the doubts began._

 _"Mr. Liatora, thank you for submitting my forms and all, but how will I even pay for this?"_

 _"Oh, you're definitely going to like this one," Mrs. Liatora turned around to face her. "We're paying for your enrollment. If you make it past first year, you'll be accepted into it for the entirety of middle school."_

 _It was all Diana could do not to scream with joy and accidentally blow the car up, so she instead settled by hugging Hannibal instead. He returned it with all the warmth and joy her best friend could._

* * *

"So, do you want to duel too, Weslyn?" Diana asked playfully.

"Actually, I was gonna work on target practice, if you didn't mind."

"Sure! Sure. Whatever you like," Hannibal said. "I think we're done for today, anyways."

* * *

Chapter 26: Sweet Sweet Memories

"So it's not like I'm thankful that you brought us here, but what the hell are we doing?" Yang asked.

Scylax had led the four to Busckart's Café and had bought them all drinks, but had said little else. He sat at the table sitting next to Blake and across from Weiss, Yang, and Ruby. He was nursing a cup of tea, staring at the table.

"Ummm… hello?"

Scylax looked up suddenly, jarred back into reality. "Sorry, lost myself there for a second."

He straightened himself in his chair, putting his tea down and looked up.

"I would like to apologize for yesterday. I'm not sure how long we'll be working together, so I want to talk face to face with you. Some warnings about these guys."

"We don't need warnings. We aren't kids. We've faced much more dangerous enemies, and we've been absolutely destroying these criminals ever since we took the assignment!" Weiss practically spat, her annoyance with Scylax's involvement evident in her normally even tone.

Scylax stared into her eyes, an even look on his face, his mouth set in a determined line. Wordlessly, he pushed his chair back from the table, using the movement to conceal his head as he checked the café for any unwanted attention. See none, he stood up and pulled up his cloak and pants leg, showing off his right leg.

The entirety of the foreleg and all around his kneecap was a charred grey, like someone had rubbed ash into his skin. The leg itself appeared unharmed, but the old burn wound looked painful.

"Do you understand what it feels like to be on fire?" he spat, letting genuine ire seep into his voice. "To _burn,_ feeling flesh scorch and bone crack until what used to be your body is a charred mess? Do you have an inkling of an idea how _painful_ that is?" He went back around, making eye contact with each of the girls, settling back on Weiss. Her calm expression remained, but he could see hints of hesitation, fear, and mild curiosity in her eyes.

Most prominent of all, though, was revulsion.

Scylax sighed, letting his cloak back down, obscuring any view of his leg and sat. "I looked over your records of your raids. You've been hitting some small caches, catching a few local bosses, disrupting infrastructure. Pretty impressive work, given the complexity of the Black Rose's operation in Vale and the time span you've had to work with. But tonight, we're going after one of their main storage warehouses. You guys can handle the security easily, maybe even power-armor suits and vehicles.

"But tonight, we're going up against a Huntsman."

Silence.

"Well, I suppose we should've expected it," Blake said, leaning back. "I mean, just look at how widespread this organization is."

"Oh," Scylax said, a strange gleam in his eyes. "You're going to love who the Huntsman is."

"What's his name?" Yang asked.

"Sergei Port. Known as the Serge. I haven't had the privilege of fighting him yet, so I'm just coming here to warn you. Huntsman and Huntresses working for the Black Rose are usually just mercenaries, people that are in it for the money or the blood. But Sergei has personal ties to the syndicate. His family has been closely involved in the Black Rose's development in Vale area specifically, so he will take an attack on his territory very personally and will respond aggressively.

"In short, he will try to painfully but efficiently kill you, and everyone around you that you love and hold dear."

"Wait," Blake interrupted, leaning forward. "Did you say 'Sergei Port'?"

"Yes."

"Does he have any relation to Professor Port?"

"He's his brother."

Shocked silence.

"Don't let his relation fool you. Professor Port is a very different man. He personally condemned his brother's involvement with the Rose, and has disowned him. Do not hesitate to kill him if your life is on the line, and it certainly will be tonight."

Scylax stood up, having finished his tea, and made to walk out the door. He stopped as a thought came to him, and he turned around to survey the girls once more.

"I don't want to work with you. I always do better on my own, not having to watch out for or rely on anyone else. Just… try not to get in my way. You might suffer for it, whether it be intentional or not." He turned back and walked out of the café.

The girls all turned to each other, looks of discomfort shown clearly in their eyes as they remember Ozpin's last warnings and assignment to them.

* * *

 _"Due to his mental instability, I would advise giving Scylax a wide berth, especially when in combat. He might actually end up attacking you. If he goes mad, I'm leaving it up to you girls to subdue him."_

 _"That would seem like a given, sir. But why do I see doubt on your face?" Weiss had asked, as perceptive as ever._

 _Ozpin had looked away, out his window, staring at the campus stretched out before him. It took several seconds for him to answer._

 _"Because I'm still not entirely sure that you can defeat him."_

* * *

As Scylax walked back to the dorm, reevaluating his earlier words and warnings. He really did work better alone. He preferred to be. _In a moment of action and fear, always remember the importance of silence and order_. One of his favorite quotes from a book read long ago. It still held meaning to him, after all these years.

Besides, he intentionally kept an emotional barrier between himself and others; just a habit that he still retained even after he had stopped living life on the run. People were just things that didn't affect him, unless they were helping or getting in the way. That way of thinking made everything so much easier.

Scarily easy.

So why did he genuinely care about the well being of those four girls?

The realization came to Scylax as painfully jarring as breaking bone.

 _No one else deserves to get hurt as I did._

The new and unusual thought certainly felt strange. _When was the last time I felt any sort of concern for something other than myself?_

Scylax walked on, lost in thought, stuck in memory, alone in revolution.

* * *

Tycho walked to the end of the hall, taking a left at a T intersection. As nothing more than a sentry guarding a heavily armored fortress of a building, he was bored out of his mind. _Why couldn't something happen?_ He thought to himself, shifting his rifle's strap on his shoulder where a chafed groove had been carved from his flesh by endless rubbing.

Anything, _anything_ , was better than the boredom that plagued his mind from this useless duty.

Luckily for him, that boredom would not last long.

* * *

Chapter 27: Target Practice and Suspicious Words

Weslyn sighted quickly, the virtual world clear-cut and simultaneously vivid through the lens of her scope. Her sniper was a beautiful weapon, different from other rifle-based weapons in a very fundamental way.

Most Huntsmen used a multi-faceted weapon, capable of a close combat and ranged capability, to varying degrees. But almost all weapons were melee-focused, the ranged capability more of an afterthought, or at the very least not the go to attack.

The fundamental difference in Weslyn's gun was that it was a sniper with a built in glaive, not vice versa.

And she would have it no other way.

She turned, hefting the once heavy rifle with practiced ease as the targeting room came online. She was surrounded by circular walls, for now completely blank. In seconds, though, they would light up, showing a myriad of targets changing in size, speed, and shape. Some would be Grimm, some would be human, some would be the size of a small coin.

The computer came online, and Weslyn prepared herself, setting herself in a comfortable stance, her rifle balanced on her arm.

A yellow outline, showing a man running at her with a weapon, just caught the corner of her eye. She spun, deftly planting a bullet between his 'eyes'. She spun once more, as another target appeared, this one a Beowulf charging her from the side. She also shot, and the hologram fractured into nothingness. Again, an adult Creeper appeared, raising its ugly maw to the world. She planted a shot in either of its eyes, and one in the back of its throat, struggling to remember what other weak spots the Grimm had on its largely armored frame. It mattered not: her shots were true and the monster disappeared. A blur of yellow, and a Nevermore feather slashed the 'ground' next to her. She spun again, going to a crouch, one knee to the ground, sighting through her scope. She fired twice, hitting both eyes of the moving bird simulated to be almost 700 meters away. She fired three more consecutive shots at its breast, detaching an armored arrow and punching a bullet through its now exposed chest. The hologram disappeared, and the room reset.

Standing up, Weslyn realized just how much time she had spent here. Nearly an hour ago, she told Diana and Hannibal she would meet them back at the room for a night out. Now, she could see that it was dark outside. She had also completely forgotten about Riviera's Café meet up they had agreed to.

Sighing in personal frustration, she ejected the now empty magazine to her rifle and caught it, slipping it back into one of her pockets. Her army jacket had vest pouches, but they were already filled with similarly empty mags. It would be a pain to reload them all now, so she simply slipped the vest and her beloved rifle into her locker, closing the door and jogging towards the dorms.

* * *

She opened the door, and quickly saw Hannibal and Diana sitting on a bed, reading a book. The two hadn't seemed to notice her. They had already changed, with Hannibal putting on a more casual for of his regular attire (a lack of an overcoat was the improvement here) though Diana still her glorious self. Before Weslyn could dismiss the two and go shower, she took a closer look at the book they had between them. It had a scratched and faded brown cover, with some sort of inscription on the front forcefully rubbed off.

"What's that?" she asked, approaching the two.

The two looked up with a half-glance, muttering words of dismissal before returning their eyes to the faded pages.

Weslyn, now very curious, walking over to the two. The writing on the pages appeared hand-written, and Weslyn mentally sighed as she recognized the book.

"Is that one of Scylax's?" she asked needlessly.

"Guilty as charged," Hannibal said, moving on the bed to make room for Weslyn.

"You know, he really, _really_ doesn't like this."

"Well, that's okay, because he won't be back until much later tonight."

Weslyn sat down, shuffling closer to her friend and peaking of his big shoulder. "Did a piece of black silicon or something fall out of the pages?" she asked casually.

The two looked up suddenly, suddenly suspicious. "How would you know?" Diana asked incredulously.

Weslyn, suddenly panicked, quickly looked at the ground before the two. She forgot to tell them about Scylax's 'warning system'. "Do you know where it is?"

Hannibal was unnerved at the panic in Weslyn's voice, and held up the arrowhead-shaped piece of rock.

"Do you remember which page it fell out of?"

"Actually, yes," Hannibal answered, and Weslyn sighed in relief.

"Just remember to put it back in the page. Scylax doesn't like you moving his bookmarks. Why are you doing this, anyways?"

"Well, when I got out of the shower, Diana just had in her lap, reading. I was mildly curious, so I decided to look as well. I mean, if there was damage to be done, it already has been."

Weslyn rolled her eyes and scooted closer, practically on Hannibal's shoulder. "So what's in here, anyways?"

"Actually, some surprisingly dark stuff," Diana answered, not taking her head up from her book. "Half of it is illegible or crazy, and the other half has some sort of calligraphic handwriting." She showed the book to Weslyn. Though the page was badly scratched, a poem could be discerned from the scratches and scribbles:

 _All of your wind has gone_

 _And all of your paths you've drawn_

 _Have sung to the ocean sand_

 _Where no on can see you stand_

 _Don't let the dark embrace_

 _Cower the dreams you chase_

 _Under the rust and blood_

 _Don't let yourself give up_

"Surprising motivational, though Scylax doesn't exactly strike me as the sentimental type," Diana said excitedly, moving the book back and flipping towards more pages. She flipped past several pages that appeared to have been ripped out, and not very carefully at that, as well as other pages with unintelligible scribbling and mess. She stopped on a clean page, one almost completely devoid of any sort of design. The handwriting matched the earlier poem:

 _They say there is a place where the wind sings_

 _Where the light shines as bright as gold_

 _They say there you will find peace_

 _From the memories of old_

 _They call it the Empire of Angels_

 _They say it is their home and shield_

 _They say they welcome those who seek wisdom_

 _But destroy all who refuse to yield_

 _Was I surprised when I was rejected?_

 _I doubt I was at all_

 _For the angels have closed the gates_

 _Thinking their Empire can never fall_

 _That leaves me_

 _Broken and afraid_

 _Moving on by myself_

 _For I refused to fade._

"So, this is more than a little strange," Hannibal started.

"Why?" Weslyn asked, standing up to go shower.

"Because we've read some of Scylax's earlier works, and it's obvious that this isn't his handwriting. And we've looked at some of his schoolwork. I even sit right next to him in class."

"But who would have owned a book before him? He doesn't have any family," Weslyn stopped, suddenly curious.

"Guys, I think I found something," Diana said, whispering in that same excited tone, her eyes wide. But unlike before, she appeared very tense.

"You know all those ripped out pages? Yeah, I think I just found them."

* * *

Chapter 28: When I Set Fire To The Rain

Tycho finally sat against the wall, settling his rifle between his knees, his Scroll in hand. He glanced around the de facto lounge, glaring at all the laughing idiots that he worked with. Sure, they may take their job semi-seriously, but it seemed that Tycho was the few among them that seemed to have any common sense. _No, you idiots, you don't pour beer up your nose just because it still goes down your throat, it might get in your nasal passage and go to your head. No you don't smoke two cigarettes out of each nostril, no, you don't hold a gun like that, no, no, NO!_

At least someone here seemed to have a working brain. She sat in an opposite corner. Even though Tycho and Avi were friends, he knew when to give the cat-like faunas some distance. She was almost as bored as he was tonight, simply wanting his shift to end so each can go back to his or her respective home. Still, the boredom was almost better than having to work with these idiots. They weren't even from a mercenary gang, but rather a bunch of collective troublesome street rabble hoping to make a buck or two.

Tycho and Avi were part of the Black Arrows, a mercenary security group doing a variety of jobs for many different (and sometimes illegal) employers. Tycho didn't much mind working for these crime bosses or other cutthroat folk, but their overseer was a bit… well, Tycho had to force himself to not try to violently kill them demon of a man.

Tycho and Avi had actually been in the Atlasian military together, serving for many years. During that time, Tycho went in for funds, but that need quickly turned to bloodlust as he grew to love fighting, whether hand-to-hand or with a gun. He was easily the most accomplished martial artist here, save for maybe Avi.

Tycho looked up from his Scroll to see Avi walking toward him, her tail flicking between her legs in annoyance. She was wearing black shorts with a green tank top, even casual for the unruly guards of the warehouse. She sat down next to Tycho and started disassembling her weapon. Her Mk 218 Ballistic Shotgun was a work of art, and she had carried it from boot camp and will probably continue to carry until the day she dies. She sighed as she stripped off the barrel, spreading out her cleaning kit before her. Her tail flicked back and forth, and Tycho knew she was nervous.

"What's wrong?" he naturally asked, for she was waiting for him to do so.

"Something's going to happen tonight. I can feel it."

Tycho reached out and put a hand on her tan shoulder. At first, she tensed, but then relaxed as he began to rub her back, brushing her long, blonde hair away. It was no doubt very strange to anyone watching the two, but Tycho had known Avi for a long time now. He knew she enjoyed it, and it relaxed her. But it was worrying to see her this way. Avi was not a worrier; that role was left to Tycho. He just happened to be a lot less vocal about it.

"Have you tried to warn the Serge?"

"Yeah, but he brushed me off as usual. He seems to have relaxed at his post quite a bit since the… incident."

"Yeah, but as long as we get paid to stand around, I think it's worth dealing with these shitheads."

Avi tensed again, and looked at Tycho. Her brown eyes glinted with a hint of real fear. "Tycho, I've been wanting to ask you something."

"Yes?" he asked, taking his hand back and staring straight ahead.

"If you left the Black Arrows, where would you go?"

"I'm not sure. I've been with the military for a lot of my life, and I'm still young enough to go back. I'm not the biggest fan of illegal operations, but whatever pays the bills, ya know?"

"I… I think after this job, I might consider doing just that."

Tycho was stunned. "Why?"

"I don't like working for these people. I'm sure there are several other security groups that I could join, with much more legal connotations and even better pay."

Tycho sighed. Avi often had started talking about such things, even since they had come to this job a few days ago. Once, she made a very real to decision to leave. It was only Tycho that stopped her. He didn't like it much either, but he was starting to entertain the notion.

Especially after what happened yesterday.

"So which one would you go?"

"Liatora Security looks good. They're not as casual, but there are several very respectable stances they take on the world. The pay's pretty good, too."

She looked up, visibly relaxing at his reaction. A few days ago, Tycho had at first treated the idea with contempt, scoffing at the idea of leaving the company they had spent years in. Then the talks began to get more serious, and even Tycho started doubting what he was really doing here.

"Then there's the military. I'm not sure about Vale, but I definitely think Atlas would accept us ag-" she stopped midsentence, her ears riveting, her eyes wide. "Something's not right." She stood up, helping Tycho to his feet. He felt something off too. Just something… fundamentally wrong. The idiots before them weren't paying attention. Tycho and Avi stepped out of the lounge.

The lounge used to be a management office in this old warehouse. The two were off shift, relaxing and trying to make the night move faster. Other guards from the Black Arrows and Co. were currently patrolling the perimeter, and no alarms had been tripped. Even the radio was silent.

The two walked towards the container shelves, some of them tens of meters in the air, reaching almost all the way to the ceiling. The shelves themselves were very dark, the light from the few lights currently on playing across the shadows.

The two walked around for a few minutes, inspecting the shelves and making a circuit inside the interior of the warehouse. After a few minutes, the two started walking back.

"See?" Tycho said, trying to comfort his nervous companion. "I'm sure there's nothing more going on tonight. Think about it," he said, a few meters away from the door of the lounge. "We'll both be home in no time, relaxing, forgetting about that dick of a Hun-"

The door to the lounge blew off in a storm of fire, and then everything went to hell.

* * *

"Everyone remember what to do?" Scylax asked the four girls, who were currently crouching next to him on top of the roof of the warehouse.

With four nods of confirmation, Scylax inwardly grinned. _Let's start this party, shall we?_

* * *

The radio started squawking with shouts for help and reports of contact. It was apparent the warehouse was under attack, and the attackers were well coordinated.

The lounge was completely destroyed, and the fire prevention measures start coming on, using an old-fashioned sprinkler system and making everything that much more hectic as the ashes fizzed out in the air around the pair.

Everyone from the lounge was definitely dead, but Tycho didn't much care for those idiots inside anyways. He was yelling into his radio, trying to coordinate the efforts of the Black Arrows still on patrol. He ordered them back to the main building where he was currently located, and switched his radio over to another channel.

"Serge, we're under attack!"

"I know." The deep, baritone voice that greeted him was filled with quiet anger, promising death. "I'll be at your rendezvous as soon as I can."

 _At least he listened_ this _time_ , Tycho thought angrily, and shrugged the annoyance aside. The man was a good fighter, and his axe would serve them all well.

 _Well, no, maybe not._

He turned to Avi, who was nervously waiting to the side. Technically, Tycho was in charge of everyone part of the Black Arrows, at least on this assignment. Avi knew that he was her superior, and was carefully awaiting orders.

He nodded towards one of the shelves. "You remember what we planned."

She nodded back, that same nervous gleam still in her eyes, and vaulted partway up one of the shelves, heading for a level with adequate cover and darkness. Tycho's radio turned ominously silent.

A few minutes later, sixteen of the original twenty-two Black Arrows operatives ran through the main double door entrance of the central building, some covered with blood and wounds. Two were carrying a wounded man missing part of his leg. He stumbled along, absolute terror in his eyes. All of them kept looking behind them, like a monster would jump from the dark hallway from whence they came.

"Sir, it's the Four," his second-in-command, Azure said. Tycho nodded wearily. He was assured that the Four didn't know the location of the stockpile, but those informants could shove that tidbit of information right up their ass.

"Sir, there's also someone else accompanying them. It's the Weed."

Tycho turned around, surveying the room and those before him with barely controlled anger. _They lied to him. They told me he was_ dead! _They knew I wouldn't have taken this job if he were still around._ He sighed angrily, just managing to place his anger in check. A job was a job, and he had work to do.

Suddenly, movement. Atop a high crate, a figure stepped into the feeble light of the warehouse. It occurred to Tycho that he was probably standing there the entire time, his grey, flapping cloak hiding him in the darkness. He stretched out his arms as if he were a speaker addressing a crowd. He smiled, but the smile never reached his cold, emerald eyes. He stretched out his words carefully and precisely, with as much joyful malevolence as the phrase deserved.

"Hello, fish! Welcome to my b̸a͜rr͏el."

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _Well, I can comfortably say that this is going to be fun to write. Finally get to describe some of Scylax's dark, sadistic personality._**

 ** _I believe that I will be uploading chapters on a weekly basis from now on, more or less. Don't hold me to it, though._**

 ** _As for the poems, the document messed up the careful calligraphy that I had planned for a font, so I'm gonna have to be a little more descriptive when it comes to describing those intricacies. If you guys have any questions (My PM box is empty because I have no friends) just send me a PM, and I'll be happy to clarify any detail of the story._**

 ** _Other than that, I hope you're all enjoying!_**

 ** _Or ̢else͏ ̀Z̷al̢go is̸ ̵go̵i͢ng̛ ̀t͏ǫ ̕hav̶e͢ s͜o̷me f̨un.̴_**


	9. Chapters 29-32

_Knives of black and green._

 _Mixed with red, colored in vengeance._

 _Suc̴h ̷a p̛ecul̷įár̛ ̕c͝ǫlor._

 _A cloak of black, eyes of hatred._

 _Broken bodies, all around._

 _Another step towards revenge. Another step towards redemption._

 _Another step towards madness._

 _Comprehension dawned._

 _The deathly silence roared in my ears._

* * *

Chapter 29: Memories of Ink and Blood

Several pages, clearly ripped out, were spread out on the bed before the three. There was the same scribbled and blocky handwriting from before, but the pages were clearly different.

There was blood. _Everywhere_.

There wasn't a single page not covered in a dark, red stain. Most of it looked accidental, like a drip or splatter. But in one very specific and creepy instance, a page with the word 'DRIP' had been written over and over again, then inscribed over with blood, covering the previously black ink.

"Well… this is a thing," Diana started, her previously excited expression replaced with something next to revulsion. Except in the berserker mode that was her Semblance, Diana tended to stay far away from blood, open wounds, or other mentions of painful or graphic injury. Hannibal, someone used to blood, had a peculiarly curious expression on his face, as if he was guessing the cause or reason of the inscriptions themselves.

Weslyn just couldn't get Scylax's words out of her head.

 _"So what do you write?"_

 _"Nothing much. Poetry. Regrets._

 _"Insanity."_

* * *

Tycho raised his rifle, and the remaining operatives that could or would followed suit. But he didn't fire, waiting to see the dreaded Weed's next move.

Besides, he still had Avi.

"I will give you all a single chance, because I'm feeling particularly merciful today," the boy started, his eyes betraying what would have been seen as a friendly smile to what it truly was.

Madness.

Nobody moved. For a full five seconds, there was absolute silence in the building. The figure stood, his cloak up, his eyes surveying the crowd of killers before him, his smile now gone. When his gaze passed over Tycho, he felt a shiver wrack his body. By looking at the gleam of those emerald eyes, he now understood the definition of insanity.

Tycho heard movement to his right as Azure pivot around behind him, his own rifle now trained on the four figures coming from the hallway. It was the Four.

The teenage girls look surprisingly intimidating in the low light of the warehouse, their lethal weapons drawn, their eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Tycho realized that his subordinates were looking to him. All of them were or used to be some form of soldier, whether it was service in a military or mercenary outfit. They would listen to their leader.

He sighed, knowing the fight was lost. Maybe they would get some sort of reprieve for simply being mercenaries rather than actual affiliates with the crime syndicate. Already, some is soldiers were putting their weapons in a rested position, pointing at the ground. He went to motion to surrender, when a voice boomed out behind him.

"Group Leader Armiya, you wouldn't mean to surrender, would you?"

The deep voice belonged to the deceptively thin, tall figure that now strode towards them, hands behind his back. He wore a grey overcoat coupled with a darker grey undershirt and an even darker grey tie. His grey pants finished out his (overly) grey outfit as Sergei "Serge" Port walked up to the mercenary group.

"Sir, to be completely honest, this is a fight we cannot win. As any self-respecting soldier, I will not needlessly risk the lives of soldiers under my command."

At the last statement, Tycho had to cut off from continuing as his former superior laughed, its booming reverberating off the large warehouse walls. "Soldiers, you say?" His gaze swept over the operatives, his deep voice portraying his anger quite adequately. "You useless lot are mercenaries! Any self-respecting soldier would have stayed with his unit until he finally retired! That's what duty and honor mean. Commitment!" He finished his speech with a wave of his previously conceal hands. Held in one was a deceptively small single-handed battle-ax. Tycho saw some of his operatives flinch at its horrific sight.

"Cowards, the lot of you!" he yelled, and Tycho saw his operatives raise their weapons, most of them focused on the group at the entrance.

"That's a lot coming from you, the boss of a crime syndicate," Tycho heard a voice behind him, coming from the yellow-haired girl. Her irises were red, though the look in her eyes simply reflected dark humor.

"I've stayed with this family for years now!" the unbridled rage apparent in the crime boss' voice as he pointed his ax at the wretched form of the teens. "My honor is intact!"

"Now, I think we've let things get out of hand here," the figure on the boxes said, the irony not completely removed from his tone. "Are you surrendering, or sh̡aĺl ͜I a̕s͢k ͝fo̴r your ͡ẁi̧l̵l?" Something was off in the boy's tone, something that made Tycho wanted to run and hide.

Sergei merely flicked his ax down, extending the previously hidden mechanism as the hilt and blade expanded until the two-foot hatchet became a full-fledged war ax, nearly the length of its wielder. He turned in defiance to this boy, the pitiful frame still atop the boxes. His eyes and stance signaled the obvious challenge. In the low light of the warehouse, Tycho made out a wide grin that blossomed on the boy's face.

"Wèlĺ, I suppose͘ ҉I h̀av͢e͡ ͡n̨o ̀ch̨o͏-" The figure cut off as his head swiveled towards one of the neighboring shelves, only to blown off his feet from the blast of an automatic shotgun.

And then shit hit the fan.

* * *

Weiss was concerned with the plan from the start. Usually, the girls went out of their way to not kill anyone in their raids. All the crime bosses had been arrested, and though some of their subordinates suffered serious injuries, none had been slain.

The group had carefully scouted the premise before initiating their attack. Scylax knew the layout of the building uncannily well. Assignments had been given, and the girls dispersed to a guard patrol. At Scylax's signal, they would simultaneously attack, causing panic and fear to run through the enemies' ranks. Scylax claimed he would deal with the lounge, initiating the signal to start the attack.

They had jumped from the shadows as the explosion rocked the building, ambushing the groups of mercenaries and street fodder with practiced ease. The street fodder hadn't stood a chance, though the mercenaries were obviously well trained. Already, Weiss could feel her aura considerably weakened from the sustained fire she had been hit with, but luckily nothing had been hurt. None of the guards had been killed, but many were incapacitated, with varying degrees of injury.

When Weiss walked up the scared group of the remaining operatives, she had caught a glimpse of the still smoldering lounge.

And the burnt bodies inside.

Weiss was aware that Scylax had killed people, _many_ people, in the past. She had seen death before, though she still didn't know how to deal with it well. Ozpin very much looked down on killings during missions, no matter how hostile they usually got. She just supposed that this would be nothing more than a regular raid, with regular group procedure being followed.

How wrong she turned out to be.

Another thing she was nervous about was the boy himself. She was told to watch out for irregular behavior and personality swings, but what really counted as irregular behavior for this strange boy?

She immediately singled out the leader. He was dressed in black pants and a black bulletproof vest, his equally obvious second-in-command swinging around to point his gun at the approaching group. The man's face was hard-set, but the seeds of doubt had worked themselves into mind, shown clearly in his eyes.

Weiss looked up to Scylax, currently surveying the group before him as he announced his ultimatum. With an ominous realization, she saw blood on the tail end of his cloak. As his eyes looked over to her, she realized why the group before her was so terrified. She had seen many of the wounded, lying against boxes, one with part of his leg severed by a very sharp weapon. None of it was the girls' doing.

"Group Leader Armiya, you wouldn't mean to surrender, would you?"

Weiss turned to watch the tall figure approach the two groups. They hadn't gotten a description on Sergei Port, but she could already see the similarities. Large, bushy grey eyebrows, short grey hair. But the similarities ended there. Peter Port's eyes did not have a look of killer anger, not was he as tall or imposing as a figure. The voice was deeper, filled with controlled rage, promising punishment.

As the crime boss screamed at his unruly troops, Weiss took a moment to survey the surrounding area. The lounge was still smoldering inside, and Weiss could not bring herself to look at the bodies inside once more.

"That's a lot, coming from a crime boss," Yang said with a sardonic tone next to her, and the Serge's gaze and attention returned to the enemy before him.

"I've stayed with this family for years now!" Weiss could feel the rage he had just only controlled seconds ago pouring out of his body. "My honor is intact!"

"Now, I think we've let things get out of hand here," she heard Scylax say from his perch, the irony apparent in his tone. From what it sounded like, he was enjoying himself.

"Are you surrendering, or sh̡aĺl ͜I a̕s͢k ͝fo̴r your ͡ẁi̧l̵l?"

Weiss' skin crawled. Something was wrong with his voice. Terribly wrong. The sound itself hadn't changed, but she could almost feel an underlying, insane aggression to his words that previously did not exist.

 _Something is wrong._

Sergei flicked his ax down, and Weiss readied her rapier. The ax was very similar to the one Professor Port used, but she did not expect it to be a complete copy. She would exercise caution.

She glanced up at Scylax, his hands still hidden inside the folds of his cloak. She saw a wide grin on his face, a predator having just found its prey.

"Wèlĺ, I suppose͘ ҉I h̀av͢e͡ ͡n̨o ̀ch̨o͏-" He suddenly cut off as his head swiveled to the side, looking at one of the nearby shelves. Half a second later, his body flew backwards, almost as if someone had dropkicked him. The retort of an automatic weapon sounded, and then everyone was firing at everything.

Weiss immediately made a go at the group leader, who was currently headed towards the shelf Scylax had stood on. Lunging in and using a glyph to swipe him off his feet, she activated another glyph, this time freezing him in a frozen bowl of ice. With an air pocket inside, he would not immediately asphyxiate, though she doubted the fight would last very long anyways. Using the reprieve of hiding behind the ice wall, she searched for Scylax's body on the ground, only to have the flailing of the man inside catch her attention. He was screaming bloody murder, inaudible over the sound of gunfire. His eyes, bulging and crazed with desperation, were focused on something further up the shelf.

Turning, she watched Scylax parade a fauna girl before him to the edge, a knife held at her throat. She was obviously terrified, her blue eyes wide with panic. He whispered a few words to her, and somehow, her eyes widened even larger than before. Scylax's own eyes held a familiar maniacal gleam. He hit her on the back of the head, knocking her unconscious, and let her limp body fall off the shelf.

Before Weiss knew what she was doing, she was sprinting forward, diving across the divide to catch the falling fauna. She barely made it, the unexpectedly heavy weight causing her to groan as she used her own body as a cushion. She pulled the girl off of her, laying the small form gently on the ground. There was sure to be a bruise on her back.

She looked back up the shelf at Scylax, ready to defend herself and the fauna if necessary. He was looking down at the two, a strange look of disappointment etched on his mad face.

Then he was gone.

* * *

Scylax felt himself blown off his feet, his cloak taking the brunt of the damage, but still enough force to knock the air out of him. He gasped, grabbing onto the lower level of the shelf with an arm and heaving himself up. _Far too close_ , his rational mind thought.

Unfortunately, he felt the claws. He had to deal with the threat before he tried to kill everyone.

He pulled himself to his feet, quickly darting into the shadows. His blood was up, adrenaline was pumping, his mind awake.

He was in the zone.

The shelf next to his was empty. He could tell that much as he darted from shadow to shadow, trying to get the gunman.

Or gunwoman, as it turned out. He caught the fleeting edge of her shoulder as she accidentally stepped under a light in the mostly shadowy shelf area. Smiling to himself, his hood now pulled up, he vaulted across shelves, landing at a run on the other side.

He found her behind a box. She spun, dropping to a knee, and unloaded her automatic shotgun.

It wasn't enough. Scylax darted to the side, a blur of speed so fast the fauna had trouble keeping up. He dived in, then jerked to the right as pellets peppered the place he had been standing seconds ago. She turned to her right, realizing her mistake, only to find the boy standing over her, a dark, ominous cloud of black and grey.

* * *

Avi squeezed her trigger, only to hear an ominous _click_.

She realized she was holding two pieces of her gun.

Her precious shotgun, her first, last, and best line of defense, had been _cut in half._

For a few seconds, he stood by her a she quickly backed away, dropping the scrap that used to be her beautiful weapon to the ground. She felt a box behind her as she desperately backpedalled, feeling the grips of panic enter her mind. In her panic, she completely forgot about her sidearm.

Suddenly, he was gone.

She felt her neck grabbed from the side, hoisted into a standing position. A sharp piece of cold metal was pressed against her throat, and she dared not move.

"W̡aļk," he commanded, spoken as if he were trying to swallow down something unpleasant. She did as he commanded, walking to the edge of the shelf, her heart beating in terror. She felt the tips of her toes brush against the edge.

He sensed him leaning next to her ear.

"T͘h̛is̷ ͞i̡ş ̛goi͝ng̛ to ́b͡e҉ ͟ _f͘un̴._ "

She felt a blow to the back of her head, and then nothing.

* * *

Chapter 30: A Bloody Last Word

Blake saw Weiss lunge past her, snaring the mercenary leader in a bowl of ice. She quickly joined the fray, slashing a merc across the chest before back flipping backwards and activating her Semblance, changing her weapon into pistol form to spray at a group of three firing at her as a copy of herself took her place. They ducked back, searching for adequate cover from her well-placed bullets.

She saw Yang directly charge Sergei Port. He brought his ax down straight into her path, which she blocked with her gauntlets. The shockwave blew him of balance, and Yang quickly followed up with a one-two punch combo, knocking him off his feet and sending his tall form flying into a nearby shelf. Yang huffed, flicked her hair back around her head, and went after another trio of mercenaries.

Blake reloaded her pistol and was ready to vault over the crate she was hiding behind, when she saw Ruby sprinting towards the group. They didn't see her until she was on top of her, swinging her scythe in a sideways swipe. She caught all three of them in the curve of her scythe, throwing all of them against another shelf, knocking them either dazed or unconscious.

A minute later, the lopsided battle was over.

The mercenaries had surrendered, realizing the fight was lost before it had even begun. They dropped their weapons, clustered in the middle of the warehouse. They held no particular loyalty to the Black Rose, so surrender hardly preyed upon their minds.

Tycho was released and immediately moved his frozen body to Avi's still unconscious form. She appeared unharmed, except for the bruise that was sure to form on the back of her head. He nodded thanks to the white-haired teen, and carried Avi's limp body to the group in the middle of the storeroom.

Yang looked around in surprise. Sergei was nowhere to be found. Everything they know about his character, which is admittedly not much, pointed to the fact that he would not run from the fight, no matter the personal cost or logic that action might condone.

More alarmingly, Scylax was missing, too.

"We need to find him," Ruby said excitedly, adrenaline in her blood still running strong from the fight.

"Weiss and I will look near the South end of the warehouse. You guys keep watch on these guys." Ruby jerked a thumb over to the now lounging mercenaries, treating their own wounded and occasionally casting fearful glances around them, as if expecting either Scylax or Sergei to return.

* * *

Sergei tripped, his long jacket trailing behind him as he sprinted down the aisle. He turned around, hearing a sound, and ducked into a shady corner between two boxes.

He crouched there, trying to control his breathing. He had heard a lot about the Weed. Far too much. So much rumor. His attacks had caused destruction and panic to spread through the ranks of the Black Rose, that panic equally felt not just by grunts like the traitorous mercenary company that had abandoned him, but the bosses and affiliates. Suddenly, people stopped working to the syndicate. Fear of terrible, painful death was always a good deterrent. Merc groups wouldn't protect sites for fear of his presence, no matter the price. Bosses tried to leave the crime ring just to escape from the imminent death that their position promised. Hence, the leaders concocted his recent absence as actually his death, even though they knew he was simply on the run.

How that lie had come to bite them in the ass.

Soft footsteps nearby. The boy was walking up the same aisle, one hand clutching his forehead. The other held a knife.

"Run," he moaned, stumbling against a support for a shelf and leaning there, his voice seemingly less threatening and filled with pain and fear. "Go to the girls before I find you." He coughed, and the imperceptible change in his voice was again present. He lifted his head and lowered his hand, a dark shadow turning towards Sergei's heading place.

"H̷e҉l̷lo͘ t̶h͝e͢re͝, ̢Se̵r̨ge.̴"

Sergei rose from his hiding spot as the boy straightened, his second triangular knife appearing in his hands, his eye manic and insane. A grin was etched in his face, his joyful malevolence broadcasted to the world. His head was slightly titled, a predator examining its prey.

It took all the arrogance, honor, and remains of Sergei's dignity not to sprint in the opposite direction. He flicked his ax down, once again extending the blade to its full length.

"I've heard much about you, Weed," he started, putting his sardonic sneer on his face. "I assumed much of it was rumor, and it appears I was correct."

The boy cocked his head to the other side, a look of curiosity crossing his now not so happy face.

"In w̴hat̛ w͏ay͟?"

"Your fighting style is childish, your Semblance weak, and your look downright disgusting. I mean, how did you even manage to kill _anyone_? I see no reason to be afraid of stupid shits like you that get all the spotlight." Sergei hefted his ax, hoping to feel some of the bravery he was projecting.

"I suggest a test of sorts," he began. "A little experiment, to see if you really are what they say you are." Sergei had never had to deal with an insane killer before, so thinking on his feet was the only thing he had going for him. He didn't have much hope. Sergei was very well aware of the Weed's capabilities.

"I̡ d̡o h̢avę ͞a̡ rep͟u͏tat͟io̡n͠ ̷to ͞uṕh̷old͏, ̵s̡o̸ I ̧d̨o͝ hop̶e͡ ͘I ̢wil̡l̡ ̧pa̛s̛s y̢ou̕r ̶tes̷t."

"Simple. All you need to do is beat in a one on one fight, neither of us using our Semblance." _Could he really be that far gone to actually fall for it?_

The boy's grin returned, and he nodded enthusiastically, like a little kid ready to play. Sergei prepared himself, holding his ax in a ready position, its point pointed at Scylax's chest. The boy didn't move.

Suddenly, the boy was blurring across the divide, closing the distance between the two in mere seconds. His knives appeared from nowhere, and Sergei desperately threw an upward slash at the figure. The grey form seemed to instantly change direction, moving around his strike and coming in for a close stabbing attack at Sergei's abdomen.

Inwardly, he smiled at the simple ploy the boy had fallen for. Quickly and efficiently reversing his ax, he brought the hilt slamming against the boy's temple. With a wet smack, he fell to his knees and slumped over.

Sergei released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and lowered his ax, looking at the end of the long aisle. The red and white pair of girls had just found him, but they were only watching, not moving closer. Their weapon weren't even at the ready.

Sergei shrugged and held his ax at the ready. "Well, all's well that ends well." He saw the girl's eyes go wide as they realized what he had just done. He smiled. His arrogance and grandiose were returning, putting his mind back into the elitist he truly was. These teens were no match for him (discounting the embarrassing episode of the yellow girl's gauntlets). He hefted his ax, ready to take them on with practiced ease and expert skill.

Rather, he tried to.

Sergei looked down to find his right arm was… _gone_.

The strange feeling of non-existence, the _not being there_ , fed a perverse curiosity in Sergei's mind for almost a full second. Then, the pain came. He felt himself lose grip of his weapon as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground, his ax mutedly clanging down next to him. Then the darkness embraced him, and he smiled at its warmth.

* * *

The blood on his cloak dripped down, loudly slopping to the floor. He smiled, an unhinged and maniacal smile, no trace humanity or remorse in his eyes. His tone was frighteningly high as he shook with excitement and bloodlust of the kill.

"All͡'s ̵H̵ell̡ th͡at̷ e͏nḑs͟ ̕weĺl." he said, a giggle erupting from his mouth. He started cackling uncontrollably; falling to the ground and rolling back in forth, slave to the laughter that wracked his body. Suddenly, with an eerie silence, the laughter ended. He crawled back to his feet, the fresh blood from the floor once again sliding down his cloak like water from a duck's back. He turned to face the girls.

His eyes had never changed.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, from whichever viewpoint you decide to take), Scylax didn't see the glyph that had been developing at his feet the entire time.

* * *

"Nice!" Ruby said, hopping atop the ball of ice.

"Yeah, just be happy I thought ahead," Weiss mumbled, turning around. "We need to do what we came here for. I'll go tell Yang and Blake that we caught them."

"Yeah, you do that. I'll stay here with him, you know, to make sure he doesn't get out."

But by then, Weiss was already gone.

* * *

Chapter 31: Unearthing the Hatchet

"What did Sergei do that was so bad, anyway?" Yang asked Tycho, cradling the still-unconscious Avi. The two had been discussing Tycho's life as a mercenary, something Yang was unusually curious about.

Tycho didn't look up. "He's a murderer, that's what." His tone was off from their earlier conversation.

 _That's definitely something, coming from you_ , Yang echoed her previous thought.

"He was very harsh, imposing some ridiculously patrol times, and generally trying to coordinate things better left to those much more experienced." Tycho looked up. "I.E., myself."

"We got unruly when he started doing this, but if we kept getting paid, we really didn't care. That was, until he decided to lessen our numbers."

"He fucking _executed_ two of my men. Beheaded them, right in front of us all. Claimed that we were getting too upset, weren't taking our job seriously enough, even planning a mutiny. Saying he was trying to restore discipline." He smirked, though the pain in his eyes was all too obvious. "For all the good that did him, too."

Yang looked away uncomfortably. It didn't need to be said that Tycho not only took his job as leader seriously, but also had friends among his comrades. Yang didn't think she could feel pity for a mercenary, but somehow she knew that Tycho was a good man.

"Still, I have her." He looked at Avi, her still form appearing peaceful among the noisy background of annoyed mercenaries.

"Yeah, well, just hope that some good comes of this," Yang said, turning at the patter of fast footsteps. Weiss turned the corner, a small look of satisfaction on her face.

"We found them both."

Blake walked up, having secured the other mercs in bindings. She turned to Tycho and Avi. He looked ready to protest, but saw Yang shake her head. He grudgingly presented his hands to Blake, who cuffed and led him to the other group. She leaned down to cuff Avi as well.

"What happened?"

"Port was trying to run, but Scylax was apparently following him. He had lost it. Sergei baited him into a trap, which he fell for and naturally foiled. In response, Scylax disarmed him.

"Literally."

Yang didn't know what to think. "Oh."

"Went straight through his Aura, too."

"Well, what did you do then?"

"I invited him for a cup of tea, and we sat down and discussed politics. I froze him," Weiss sighed before Yang could protest.

"So what do we do now?" Blake asked, having carried Avi to the group awaiting arrest.

"Well, we should probably contact the authorities to take this mess off our hands," Weiss offered.

"You know the rule. Gotta run it through Red-1 first. For the record," Yang added.

Weiss groaned, turning around and walking back to the aisle. "What am I, an owl?" she muttered to herself.

* * *

Ruby hopped down from her perch and started rummaging through a nearby crate. It was loaded with assault rifles from all over the Remnant, old and new models. _They should really organize more_ , Ruby grinned sardonically. She closed the crate and looked back at the ice. Still there.

Ruby saw one of Scylax's knives on the ground. Its strange, triangular blade certainly was interesting, if not for the blood still wet on the black metal.

She looked up when she heard a sound. The ice had moved, water dripping off its translucent surface. She could see Scylax's face inside, mouth frozen with a smile.

But his eyes weren't smiling. In the two green irises was something akin to desperation. Ruby got closer, curious.

The ice shattered into a million glimmering pieces, and Ruby fell backward as a heavy weight hit her. Her head slapped the hard concrete, and momentarily stunning her.

 _Wha… what just happened_?

The ice ball had shattered, water and ice glistening off of everything like a frag grenade of snow had exploded. The weight was still on her chest. Ruby managed to look up.

Scylax was practically straddling her, convulsing from the cold. His arms were wrapped tightly around her abdomen, his head lying against her body right below her breasts. He didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon. Ruby tried to shrug him off, but Scylax didn't budge. She was about to become more forceful in her efforts when she heard him speak.

"C͞old… coļd͡… c͞old… cold… cold…" she heard him mutter like a mantra to himself, and his freezing form slowly stopped shaking.

At least his voice seemed to be back to normal.

After maybe a minute of this awkward silence, Scylax drunkenly stood. He swayed back and forth, his eyes unhealthily glazed over, his face red with a blush.

"Sorry," he said with a slightly slurred voice.

Ruby picked herself up, ready to draw her scythe if necessary.

"And what exactly was that?"

"I'm cold-blooded."

Ruby blinked.

"It's really complicated." He turned away, unwilling to meet Ruby's eyes.

"Oohkay," Ruby said slowly. "Are you a faunas?"

"Yeah. I'll explain it later."

Ruby stood when she heard Weiss' footsteps around the corner. Weiss turned, saw Scylax free, and immediately went for her rapier.

"No! No! Stop!" Ruby shouted, waving her arms. "It's okay, he's fine now."

Weiss, her hand still on the hilt of her weapon, looked back and forth between Scylax and Ruby. After deciding that it was safe, she removed her hand and crossed her arms. "Yang and Blake want confirmation to contact the police. For the record," she added sarcastically.

Ruby nodded, and Weiss stood there for a good three seconds. Then, she threw up her arms and groaned again, her exasperation evident. She turned around and walked back to the other girls.

Ruby turned back to Scylax, looked at the bloody corpse of Sergei Port. She didn't necessarily feel sorry for the man, but Ruby had never killed anything before, discounting Grimm. She didn't understand how Scylax so carelessly did it.

"I never meant to kill him," Scylax said, noticing Ruby's interest in the body. "It just… happened."

"How did you get through his Aura?" she asked, turning back to him.

Scylax turned around from where he picked up his knives, casually flicking them back into his wrist sheathes, out of sight and completely concealed. He started walking past Ruby, his previously embarrassed face replaced with some of its former mischievousness, barren of malice.

"That's for me to know, and you to probably never find out." His artificial friendly tone would have been a lot more convincing without the minute traces of blood still present on the back of his cloak.

Glancing back at the body, Ruby noticed something peculiar. On the back of Sergei's now exposed neck were two straight slashes, curved to form of a rather calligraphic X. The deep cuts had severed Sergei's spine, once again slicing through his Aura like it wasn't even there.

Scylax had never meant to take Sergei alive.

Ruby turned around and warily followed the insane teen back to the group. She still couldn't get the sound of his laughter out of her ears, and the image of his green eyes out of her head.

* * *

Chapter 32: Doubts, And None Other Than Peace

"So basically, that's what happened," Ruby finished, her long and barely coherent rant done. It was no matter. Weiss would no doubt file a written report for a more clarified account of the incident.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair, his hand on his chin. He took a sip from his coffee, and, apparently deciding it was no longer necessary, set the mug on his desk. He finally stood, turning his back to the girls, hands clasped.

"Congratulations, girls. As far as I know, that is your biggest strike against the Black Rose since you've taken this assignment. I will call you if the police get any more leads on major cases. But other than that, I can comfortably say that you passed the assignment. You didn't even have any deaths among the mercenaries."

"But sir, that's not true," Blake started, but Ozpin stopped her with a raised hand.

"I am well aware of Scylax's fatalities during the operation, but he was there as an involuntary accomplice of yours, which does not affect your grade."

"Sir, don't you have a problem with Scylax killing those people?" Yang interjected, her anger bleeding into her voice.

"I won't stop him until I know more about him," Ozpin said, but Weiss could hear the doubt starting to seep into his voice.

"But sir-"

"Enough!" Ozpin commanded, practically shouting, and Yang fell into a shocked silence. She didn't believe she had ever heard Ozpin raise his voice in anger. None of them had.

"Sir," Ruby started cautiously, "have you told Professor Port yet?"

Ozpin almost seemed to slump, his tall and proud figure reduced to something more like a detested vagrant wandering the streets.

"Don't tell him. I will handle that matter personally," Ozpin said, his voice softening in a defeated tone.

"As for Scylax, I will neither criticize nor condone his actions, but he will not allowed on any other missions until he can control himself."

"You are dismissed," Ozpin finished wearily, slumping down in his chair and swiveling it to face his window. The girls stood still for a good five seconds, and finally made their way to the elevator. As the ding sounded, Ozpin exhaled and gazed outward.

Mistakes, mistakes, and more mistakes. He knew them all too well.

Some teacher he was.

Ozpin shook his head, ridding himself of his insecurity. The dice had been cast, the bets placed. All there was to do was to see whether he returned a profit, or Scylax tried to kill every single person in his school.

* * *

As soon as Scylax got back, he slipped into the dorm room, found his journal, and looked it over. He didn't do this often; never really recorded what was happening now or what he was thinking. He never wrote for other people to read or even understand what he was trying to say. This night, however, was so very different.

He had lost control again.

He snuck out of the room and went onto the roof. The moon was fading as the day teased its beginning, dawn approaching in only a few hours of so. He stared into the glare of the sun soon to be rising over Vale, and at the fading moon, still visible and cold.

And he began to write.

* * *

 _"Professor Port is out today, so all of his periods will be receiving a free period for the time being"_ , the intercom neutrally announced. Weslyn didn't know why, but she didn't much care. A free period meant an extra hour to finish her history homework reading. History had never been something she was interested in, but as a good student she tried to get as immersed as possible. Luckily, reading was something she excelled at, and she finished the fifty assigned pages in little under thirty minutes.

Closing the thick volume, she looked up to see Diana struggling to concentrate on her own homework, and Hannibal was on his Scroll, looking over the local news. A major police raid had occurred in downtown Vale, a huge stockpile was found belonging to the Black Rose. It was secured thanks to the help of some Huntsman-in-training from Beacon.

"Where is Scylax?" he heard Weslyn ask as she theatrically slammed the cover of her history volume shut.

"He's sleeping during the period. Apparently he was involved in the Black Rose police raid last night." He showed Weslyn the article.

"Oh."

Diana groaned and closed her own book, carefully marking the page she finished at. "I can't sit still like this. Let's do something." She hopped to her feet; looking around the library the group had situated themselves in.

The school library was filled with academic novels, leaving most pleasure reading up to the local bookstore. That still didn't diminish its grandeur; the building itself looked old but well maintained, the marble walls and columns glistening, the multi-leveled areas adding a sense of verticality to the surroundings. The wooden, extra tall shelves certainly helped the whole building seem larger than it was. Plenty of windows allowed natural light to flood the entire building as a whole.

As it happens, the group was on the bottom floor, sitting in a ring of chairs near the entrance. They returned the history volumes (why did they use leather-bound covers when scrolls were so much more cost-effective and mobile?) and made for the exit.

"I'm going back to the room for more studying," Weslyn said as the group walked through the grand double doors, releasing them into the outside world.

"Awww, come on Weslyn!"

"Seriously, we have a test next period. Hannibal stayed up all of last night studying, so I can excuse him. But you need to hit the books, so they say."

Diana pouted, and Weslyn let out a sigh. Diana looked absolutely adorable when she wanted to be, and this is one of those times. Wide violet eyes, well-groomed short silver hair, and a perfectly symmetrical face allowed that, she supposed.

"Well, I'll leave your grades up to you," Weslyn sighed, turning towards their dorm.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of her," she heard Hannibal call out to her, followed by Diana's giggle.

"Where to now, glorious leader?"

* * *

 _Why am I always wandering off from those two?_ Weslyn thought as she scaled the stairs to their room's floor. No matter. She had a test to study for.

Weslyn opened the door to find Scylax standing near the bathroom door, his right hand covering his right eye, a look of mild terror passing over his face.

* * *

 _ **AN: So yeah, that was fun. Big school stuff, didn't have much time to write. SHOULD (heavy language from such an unreliable source, I know) have the next chapters out possibly by this weekend. If not, I CAN GUARANTEE that they will be out sometime next week.**_

 _ **I would to throw a special thanks to you ten people that keep reading my work. Your interest is a big reason for me to keep writing, and your very presence on my stories is enough for me to thank you.**_

 _ **Maybe I'll finally give you guys a cookie.**_


	10. Chapters 33-36

_I walk a lonely rode_

 _Though I wish I was truly alone_

 _I want nothing more out of life_

 _Than peace from memories of home_

 _What should I do?_

 _Now that I'm uncertain, afraid?_

 _He's always been there for me_

 _But I never wanted him to be_

 _I ҉WANT ͠T͡O ͠BE͞ ̵F̕R͟EE_

* * *

Chapter 33: Exclusion Is The Greatest Catalyst

Sighing, Nequam stood from his perch on the roof. The two were at it again, the dreaded and buff Gabbro arguing with the petite yet equally terrifying Riviera. According to Gabbro, they had been dating ever since they left Haven Academy. Tumultuous as it might seem from the outside, the two were simply speaking on a similar level. It was probably something to do with their size difference, or the like. At least, that was Nequam's thought. They weren't represented by their sizes, but more by their voices. The quieter someone got, it was either an indication for submission, or simply wanting to back off and calm down. Therefore, the two were on equal terms; their voices represented their size, no their physical forms.

Nequam shrugged off his idle wonderings. He had practice to attend to. Triton was an okay guy, but he kept to himself. Nequam knew the boy was just naturally quiet and introverted, rather than upset or untrusting. That made things easier between them. They understood each other.

Regardless of their views, they needed the practice. Nequam was astounded by the variety of fighting styles and practices represented amongst Beacon's inhabitants, so it was time to for him to get to some educatin'.

They met in the dueling arena, the two standing still. Triton was holding his, well, triton, quietly keeping to the side. Nequam quickly glanced about the room; they were alone.

They met in the middle of the ring, each glancing at each other's weapons. The silence still stood like a wall of ice before them, waiting to be broken before proper words can be spoken and understood.

"I know you've seen my swordsplay when I dueled," Nequam started, taking the hesitant initiative, "but really I know three different styles."

"I guess that's what happens when you grow up in a noble family," Triton responded, and Nequam nodded, masking the pain from within that unintentional jab had created. "Right, and I know a little of spear fighting, for simple defense purposes."

"This isn't a spear."

"Well, yes, but I imagine that it can be used like o-"

Flicking the triton up by the hilt, Triton flicked the weapon over his shoulder and crouched, allowing it to fully rotate around his and smack Nequam directly in the temple. He finished the spin with a resolute flick, the triton settling down into its former resting position.

"It's not a spear," Triton repeated, a little flick of dry humor entering his voice.

Nequam stood, shrugging to control his anger. Triton was a little hard to get along with, simply put, and was given some slack. The only son of the family, Triton had trouble developing bonds between people, once again, something Nequam knew well. It was often a relationship of confusion and bickering, but Nequam was trying his best.

"Right," Nequam said, his words slurred from the strike on the head. "Basically what I'm suggesting is that it could be used as one, even though you've clearly developed a unique fighting style."

Triton nodded, the humor gone from his eyes. In its place, concern. He had heard Nequam's slurred voice, and he was wondering if he accidentally caused a concussion.

"So basically, what I wanted to do was to try and fi-"

The door to the practice room opened, and two older students walked in.

* * *

After her report to Ozpin on how she captured Scylax, Weiss was tasked with specifically training her glyphs for capture-like freezes. She knew why. Ozpin was clearly worried about Scylax's mental state, and wanted someone that could quickly and efficiently capture him should he get any… unsavory ideas.

She couldn't agree more. Those eyes of his gave her nightmares. She knew that Ruby shared her view.

So here she was, walking into the practice room with Yang, when she saw a Neptune-lookalike and an unfamiliar noble standing in the middle of the ring.

Well, Neptune-lookalike was stretching it. The boy had Neptune's short, flowing hair, but it was groomed to the side rather that straight down, as well as a darker shade of blue. The boy did not wear a suit, preferring a black and blue jumpsuit, surprisingly similar to an orange prison uniform, as well as a navy blue overcoat. He carried a triton, a shorter counterpart to a trident, which Neptune used. The similarities were baffling, even if slightly dissimilar.

The other boy was the main source of attention, though.

"I didn't know a noble had enrolled this year," Weiss called to the boy, he seemed to tense at the word 'noble'.

"There's one other than me, too," he called back hesitantly. He clearly recognized the Schnee heiress, even though he had never seen her in person.

The four walked closer, Yang taking note of the lookalike with suspicion.

"What family are you from?" Weiss asked.

"Ostrum."

"I'm from the Schnee family."

"We know. There's probably not a person in this school that doesn't know," the lookalike butted in.

"And what exactly does that mean?" Weiss asked, her tone defensive.

"Well, your exploits and team's reputation precede you, Ms. Schnee," he replied coolly. "And not to mention your father's reputation."

"My father's reputation?" Weiss once again asked, her eyebrows raised.

"His excellent managing of Schnee Dust, of course."

"Okay then. I'll let that slide. Your name?" Weiss asked, turning to Nequam, who, up until that point, was trying to find a way to excuse himself.

"N-Nequam Ostrum."

"And who is the other noble?"

"Aaryan Morea, at your service," Aaryan said, making his previously concealed presence at the entrance of the room known.

Weiss turned around the find a purple suit glaring back at her. Its occupant, a medium-heighted, tan, and artificially jovial character glared back at her, his blondish-brownish hair groomed down his face perfectly, hanging over his eyebrows. He stepped forward and gave a theatrical bow, purple overcoat fluttering around him. He stood, and his similarly deep, purple eyes gazed into hers with a gleam of mischievous humor.

Nequam sighed. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," was the answer. The boy readjusted his similarly purple and black-striped tie and made a motion to the door.

"Shall I treat you two to a little drink?"

"Two?" Yang said questioningly.

"Yes. Nequam and Weiss. I do wish to speak with them." His tone offered no argument.

* * *

Chapter 34: I Can See Clearly Now

"So, uh, hi," Scylax offered.

"What's wrong?" Weslyn asked. Scylax was holding a hand over his right eye, and wasn't making a move to change that.

"Nothing."

Even though something was clearly off, Weslyn walked into the room and sat down at her bed, pulling her Grimm Anatomy book out from under her bed, where most of her school supplies were stored. Scylax walked back into bathroom, never removing his hand from his face.

Weslyn sat on her bed for a good five minutes until she could no longer stand trying to memorize the various inner workings of a King Taijitus. She looked around the room for something to procrastinate with. She settled on Scylax's bed, and the desk beside it. On it was one of his books: a rough, brown cover that obvious had seen a lot of time. On top of that was a package of disinfectant strips, used to disinfect and clean contacts. _Does he wear contacts_?

The door to the bathroom opened, and Scylax saw Weslyn looking over at his desk. He made his way over to the desk as Weslyn stared on. He stopped, putting his free hand on the package and the other still holding his eye. He stood still for a few seconds, like he was internally debating a course of action. Finally, he turned around.

"What is it?"

"Why do you wear contacts?"

"Could you just turn around, please?"

Weslyn continued to stubbornly stare on, much to Scylax's annoyance. Finally, he huffed in frustration, turning around again and removing his hand, moving it to his left eye and removing a translucent contact. He placed the strip on the device and sighed again. "Do you really want to know?"

"I'm your teammate, you know. I'm even your partner! At least I should be able to trust you, right? And vice versa."

"Fine. Just promise not to freak out."

Scylax turned, and Weslyn didn't know what to think.

Scylax's eyes were almost inverted; in the place of a normal iris was a vertical black pupil, surrounded by a pale yellow instead of white. Weslyn recognized the eyes of a snake.

He blinked, and a previously hidden translucent scale slid over the eyes, a secondary eyelid.

"A bit conspicuous, huh?"

"Yeah…." Weslyn managed to say.

"I also have notoriously bad eyesight, so these help as well."

Several things mentally clicked at once for Weslyn. _That isn't the real reason you wear them around us. It's not even necessarily your eyes. How would you introduce yourself to new people if you thought yourself a freak? Anyone that didn't know what he was would probably be too unnerved_.

 _Do_ I _even know what he is?_

"So, are you satisfied?"

Weslyn snapped out of her reverie, brought back by Scylax's rude words. "I suppose I am."

Scylax sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I haven't showed anyone else this before, even the doctor. These contacts can last up to eight days on one strip without becoming a health risk. I can even comfortably wear them to sleep. So consider yourself… trusted."

He brought his hand to the right side of his head and yanked, pulling off some sort of gel that was covering a large swath of his hair. "This isn't my true hair color, either." He showed her his now exposed side, and Weslyn could see ash grey hair next to his artificial brown. "Once again," he continued, "more than a bit conspicuous."

"Yeah, I can see that. Any more surprises?"

"I have a huge penis."

Weslyn blinked.

"Kidding," he huffed, his attempt at a joke misplaced. "No, no more surprises. But you must admit, this is kind of intimidating." He opened his mouth in a wide grin, extending his fangs. Coupled with the gleeful look in his bizarre eyes, he looked downright demonic. It made Weslyn's skin crawl.

"Yeah, creepy, can you please stop?"

He quickly closed his mouth, his face red with embarrassment. "Sorry. It feels good to share this with y-someone."

"You should go back to your original hair," Weslyn said, opening his book again and trying to read.

"Why?"

"It fits you."

Scylax looked ready to respond, but stopped and finally sat down on his bed, opening his faded brown cover. Not writing, but just looking. After a few minutes, he dawned his contacts once again and turned around, facing Weslyn once more. "Are these in right?"

Weslyn looked up to find his completely… normal. Well, as normal as his eyes could be. They had returned to the normal, human, pale emerald, fit with their dead look and cynical undertone. He had also reapplied the brown gel, contained within a drawer of his desk. "Yeah, they're just fine."

A few seconds later, the bell rang, and Weslyn was off her bed, pulling her book and assignment out the door and towards the classrooms, desperately recalling the unique nervous system of the Goliath as she sprinted to Professor Port's lecture hall.

And she was smiling all the way.

* * *

"So, not to try and seem awkward or anything, but once again, I'm Aaryan Morea from the Morean family."

"Yeah, I know about you. My family had close dealings with you in the past. What was it about, though?" Weiss asked.

The three were sitting in a circle, nursing drinks in one hand, acquired from a nearby vending machine. They had gone to the student lounge for the quiet; almost all classes were currently being held, and the room was deserted.

"Oh, you're going to like this one. My father is very set in the old ways. _Old_ , old ways. He was trying to convince your family to set up a marriage. I was to be betrothed to you."

Weiss tried to stop the rising flush of embarrassment, but stopped when she saw that Aaryan's cool figure had also slipped, and he was blushing too.

"Okay, that's all good and all, but what exactly am I doing here?" Nequam asked, temporarily forgotten by the other two.

"Oh. Yes. I wanted to formerly introduce myself, and ask a little about your family. What was your father like?"

Nequam refused to meet Aaryan's eyes.

"Oh, yes! He was the killer of Ignoto, right here in Vale, right?"

Silence.

"Oh, what a pickle you're in. Does the family responsibility fall to you? Chivalrous acts, as I recall, are a constant requisite."

Weiss genuinely looked surprised. "That was your _dad_?" she asked incredulously, trying to process how this soft-spoken boy could be the son of the loud, ambitious, and extremely cruel serial killer known as the Killer of Ignoto.

"Yeah, that was my dad."

 _Talk about pressure_. "Is that why you want to become a Huntsman?"

"Partially, yes. But I do need to clear my family name. It's been… _tainted_ , so to speak. I'm here to bring honor to my family once more." Nequam seemed almost empowered by his pep talk.

"Tell that to the Council," scoffed Aaryan.

The bell rang, and Aaryan stood. "Well, I best be off. Grimm Anatomy calls, and it wants my number." He winked at Weiss and sauntered out of the student lounge, a new swagger in his step, his deep purple suit swaying around his form. The door opened with a squeak and closed with a click.

"I suppose I should be going as well," Nequam said, standing timidly and making his way to the door. He opened it.

"Nequam."

The boy turned, looking Weiss in her pale, ice blue eyes. He stared.

"If you need help with anything, just talk, okay? This isn't about some 'noble' crap or anything, just person to person. Okay?"

Nequam nodded, and closed the door behind him. It echoed resolutely of sadness.

* * *

Chapter 35: Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

"Ready?"

"Ready for what, exactly?" Her heavy accent echoed through the mostly quiet hallway.

"You know, it's up to you to motivate them. Try using your story. That should certainly whip up the crowd. Especially with the target later this month."

"These are downright advertisement tactics."

Two eyes stared back at her in an invisible grin. "And?"

She huffed as the two walked towards a door. "Fine. Let's get on with this. As long as this gets resolved."

He walked up next to her, both facing the stage set before them. His red eyes were not gleaming as they had before. "What do you exactly mean, resolved?" he asked in a surprisingly concerned voice.

She turned to him, ears twitching in frustration. His games were becoming annoying. "Simple. Justice."

He whistled, facing forward once more. "You mean revenge."

The two stood in silence, digesting each other's words.

"They really did something to you, didn't they?"

"You wouldn't have a clue."

"I will soon."

The crowd cheered, and the two speakers walked onto the stage.

They stood atop the metal mount, the lights from the mostly dark warehouse obscuring most of the view of the mass of people. The screaming frenzy seemed invigorated by her very sight and presence. She could barely even see the people in the front of the crowd.

The white masks certainly helped, though.

* * *

"Hey!"

Labib looked up in the quiet library to see a giant of a teen walking towards him, his school uniform rumpled, his face covered in a satisfied smile as his light violet eyes made contact with Labib's yellow. He strode up to the smaller, sitting boy and leaned on his chair, looking over his shoulder at the history volume currently being read. "Whatcha got there, boy?"

"A history volume, currently discussing the Siege of Vale and its participants."

"Cool, cool, nice. And what exactly are you planning on doing with that knowledge?"

"I plan to make a better grade than if I had not otherwise read this work. You are interrupting me. Please leave." Labib's voice was calm and concise, showing no weakness.

The boy backed off, a fake shocked look on his face. "Why, my friend, how could in any way possibly inhibit you? I would never wish to do something like that."

He started to step forward when he realized another boy was standing over the yellow boy's shoulder, his brown hoodie perfectly blending in with the surrounding polished wood. He had just… appeared. His hood was up, looking down at the volume the yellow boy was currently reading. The boy with the book seemed to either take no notice or have any care. Cardain was creeped out. The yellow-haired boy did not seem like the weakling he though he would be. He started forward again, cautiously.

"Stop it, Cardain. It's obvious what you're trying to do."

Cardain groaned at the sound of Jaune Arc's voice. He turned to back mouth the smaller boy but saw Pyrrha Nikos standing to his side, her green eyes just as annoyed as Jaune's. He sighed and walked off without a backward glance. Jaune watched him leave, and then walked up to the two boys, who still had yet to move.

"I would say thanks for the help, but that would be a lie," the yellow boy said, not looking up from his book.

Jaune examined the brown boy. His face was now exposed as he lowered his hood. He had fair features, average skin, and average height. A pair of brown, canine ears stuck out the tops of his head, marking him as a fauna. Everything appeared relatively normal; even his dark brown hair was just a short thing, combed forward.

His pale blue eyes told a different story.

"Well, it would be nice to be appreciated every now and then," Jaune replied, ignoring the obvious intent in the boy's words. "I'm Jaune, and this is Pyrrha. We're both a year ahead of you two."

Finally, _finally_ , the yellow-haired boy put down his volume and looked up, his yellow eyes as piercing as they were cynical. _Not a whole lot of starry-eyed naivety this year, apparently_.

"I'm Labib. This here is Jaeger. Excuse the fact that he would never actually introduce himself voluntarily."

"Yeah… that was Cardain. He's a bit of an a-hole, but mostly he's just… off right now. In his own strange way," Jaune added, looking back to where Cardain had last disappeared.

"Off, you say?" Jaeger spoke for the first time, and his voice was unexpectedly silky and smooth, a complete mismatch of his eyes.

"Yeah, the memorial for Velvet Scarlatina is going to be held next week. He hates to be reminded of her."

"What happened?" Labib asked.

"She committed suicide." Jaune couldn't stop the hard look from entering his eyes as he remembered the scene over and over again. No doubt Pyrrha was the same. "The school councilor and all of her close friends says it was probably from depression caused by bullying. She didn't really have a family to turn to, and hid it from her team until it was too late."

"Wow. I…uh… I'm sorry for your loss." Labib had seen the look on their eyes and immediately knew. He wasn't very good with emotional things.

Jaeger merely nodded respectfully.

"Well, the past is behind us. Cardain realized what he was doing, and now he's just a wreck. Sometimes he falls back into his habits of annoying and generally being his old self, but mostly he's just quiet. Still a bit arrogant, though."

Jaune looked at Pyrrha, who was motioning towards the time displayed on a nearby wall. "Well, I suppose was best get going."

The two boys looked down, back at the history book on Labib's lap. Jaune just shook his head and walked off, following Pyrrha towards the exit.

 _New kids. Always thinking they're so experienced._

Jaune had no idea.

* * *

"Welcome back, you four."

Ozpin sat behind his desk, holding his cup of coffee, examining the four individuals of Team JNPR before him.

"And how did it go?" This was a needless question, for, as always, a written report would be submitted later today. But Ozpin had always enjoyed verbal communication.

"Well, it was fun! And we almost fought one, and it almost attacked us, and it got _really really_ close, an-"

"Nora, control yourself," Pyrrha said, and Nora became quiet.

"The mission went well, sir," Jaune replied, straightening to attention. "We have effectively viewed and studied two herds of Goliaths, among other rarer Grimm, which will be included in Py-my submitted report."

Ozpin nodded, and turned to Lie Ren, currently standing quietly in the corner of the room. He tended to be more observant than any other the three. He got the cue.

"The herds did not seem bothered by our presence, until," and he looked glaringly at Nora, " _someone_ decided it would be fun, against _all_ warnings and common sense, to go and touch one completely alone."

Nora simply flashed a smile.

Ozpin sighed, putting his head in his hands. "And what happened?" he asked, not moving from the position.

"It just… looked at her. Strangely. Luckily, she had enough sense to regroup with us, but it didn't actually attack. It just seemed annoyed. The herd barely reacted," Lie said, a touch of awe entering his voice as he remembered the scene.

Ozpin looked up in surprise. "The herd didn't care?"

"It didn't appear that way, no."

"Interesting… I'll get Professor Port to review it with you when he comes back."

"…Back, sir?" Pyrrha asked hesitantly.

"Oh, right. I haven't told you yet. It's a long story."

"We have time, sir."

"I know you care much about your teacher and friend, but please, stay out of this."

Pyrrha and Jaune exchanged looks. They knew whom to ask.

But that would be later.

* * *

Chapter 36: Molares Revelata

Tycho looked up as he heard a sound. His cell, though clean and warm, was so barren that the boredom was mind numbing. He practically jumped straight up when he saw Avi enter, accompanied by three armed guards. The table was situated in the middle of the room, and they sat Avi down on a chair, opposite Tycho.

"I've given everything you guys need, right?"

"Yeah, this is your requested attention. You guys can talk for a good hour or so, but us three get off shift around that time. As you can probably tell, it's pretty late."

Tycho nodded thanks to the officer and looked at Avi. She had improved considerably in the past day and a half. She had been having reoccurring nightmares of the Weed, and had found herself unable to sleep without hearing those words, feeling that knife against her throat, seeing those insane, crazy eyes. Naturally, Tycho had tried to comfort her, but the isolation in the holding jail made it difficult, as they were naturally held separately. From what he could tell, most of the mercenaries were being held here. Those with previous criminal history were being held in a much more secure and restricting location. They were to be sent through the court system first.

"So I heard from the lawyer that we have a pretty good chance of a 'wrong place, wrong time' case," Tycho started.

"Good thing we never really got into serious business, huh?" Avi sounded tired. Very, very tired.

"Are they treating you well?"

"Yeah, about as much respect as someone suspected of a crime deserves."

"At least we aren't over there."

"True."

The two sat in silence. The guards were sitting near the doors, the two grunts sitting side by side on either side of the metal portal, the officer opting out of a chair altogether, leaning against the wall parallel to the door. The grunts were on their Scrolls; the officer was watching the conversation at a respectful distance. A good word from the Four had certainly made the guards much more lax around them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Avi said, raising her head to make eye contact with Tycho.

Tycho could still hear, no, _feel_ himself screaming inside that bowl of ice. "Sure."

"What's the fastest thing you've ever seen?"

Tycho hesitated for a second.

"An XM-2 Railgun, that prototype I watched being tested back in Atlas. It was fired over an open field in the dead of night. I saw the bullet as it caught fire from moving so fast through the air. Like a shooting star, but eye level."

"Think faster."

"Any faster and I wouldn't be able to see it move."

"He was like that. The Weed. Just slow enough to actually see him, but so fast you could never react. It w-" Her ears perked up again as shouting was heard through the metal doorframe. The grunts had immediately perked up; this was a military jail. Shouting in the halls could not be good, and was definitely not allowed. As far as they were concerned, this was the only other prisoner meeting going on. The rooms were adequately soundproofed as well; this was happening in the hall without a doubt. They picked up their weapons; two sub-machine guns with a lethal sixty bullet magazine. The officer also looked more alert, his hand creeping down to his sidearm.

"What is it?" Tycho found himself whispering as the two grunts crept towards the door, guns held at the ready. The officer approached the table, his hand still on his holster.

"Peak it, Reg," the left grunt whispered, and the other slowly inched the door open without a sound, his machine gun exiting before him. He jerked his head out quickly, ready to sweep the corridor for threats.

A retort, a flash, a loud boom, and the private's brains scattered over his astonished comrade.

The officer drew his automatic pistol and pointed it at the door, while the other private jumped back from the now headless body of his friend, SMG pointed at the door. Already, the sound of gunfire and automatic weapons was sweeping through the building, the unknown assailants seemingly just as heavily armed as the soldiers. An alarm had sounded, and the door's locks had kicked in, effectively sealing the room. The officer's radio was assailed with calls of contact and warnings, as well as painful and terrified screams.

"Lieutenant, what the _fuck_ are we gonna do?" the private whispered loudly, turning to the officer by the table. The shock was finally getting to him; his eyes had started to glaze over, his body was starting to shake. His friend had died _a foot from him,_ his brains scattered on his green uniform.

"Shhhh. Listen."

The Lieutenant seemed to collect himself and turned to the prisoners. "We've been getting threats from the White Fang about violence towards the jail for apparent faunas segregation and abusing. They aren't true, but say something enough times and it becomes fact.

"We think they might be coming after some high-profile inmates from a raid about a month ago. They might have taken over the jail, but the door will hold." His voice was calm and concise, not faltering in its confidence of strength. For a moment, Tycho shared his confidence and was ready to ask how he and Avi could help.

At least, that confidence lasted until the door was blown off its hinges, flying over and crushing the officer against the ground with a sickening _crunch_. The door had shoved the table to a side of the room, it back facing the door, but Avi and Tycho were well past sitting down and waiting. As silence was heard from the hall, even with the gaping whole in the wall that was supposed to be the impenetrable door, the seeping pool of blood on the ground, the private somehow still keeping his cool, leveling his SMG at the doorway and taking a defensive position against the side of the wall, as silent as could be. Tycho quickly snuck over and grabbed the sidearm of the officer. The private saw him do that and spun his gun over to him, the SMG now shaking in his hands.

Tycho froze, quickly motioned the gun away and nodded towards the door. Seconds passed when finally, the grunt made the decision to focus his attention back on the real threat. He nodded to Tycho, who inched the pistol out of the holster, grabbing three magazines contained within the same leather pouch. He checked the weapon; it was ready to go.

All he needed was someone to shoot at.

Luckily, he didn't have that long of a wait.

A few seconds later, the patter of feet was heard down the hall. Tycho assumed it to be the gunman who had killed the private, but what happened with the do-

A burst of movement, and a huge blade, shaped in the form of an arrow, burst through the concrete wall and buried itself in the private's chest. The grunt looked down, surprise on his face for a second or two, until the blade retracted with a rattling of chains, and the limp body collapsed to the ground, blood covering his green camo uniform and seeping onto the floor.

Quick as a cat, Avi dashed forward without a sound and scooped up the SMG, retaking her position behind the overturned table, next to Tycho. The slapping of boots on concrete growing steadily louder as the gunman approached the door. Tycho motioned her down, and the two ducked behind the small metal table.

Suddenly several pairs of feet were heard. Three pairs of feet entered the room.

"Why aren't they here?" a gruff voice asked.

"You _idiot_ , it's on the entire next cell block! These are the intermediary cells, not the high security!" A blow was heard, and a grunt of pain followed, sounding like the mewling of a cat.

"What are we gonna tell the boss? If we don't get these people out, he'll have our skins!" a third, much younger and high-pitched voice sounded.

"Quiet, you! I think those Black Arrow mercenaries are in these cells. If they get a gun, who knows what they'll do?" the second voice growled.

"Wait, the Blacks are being held _here_?" the high-pitched voice got even higher with this new revelation. Tycho smiled to himself. _I see our reputation precedes us_.

He looked to Avi. She was in her zone, so to speak. Her lips were curled into a grotesque grin, her eyes feline sharp and calculating. Her previous anxiety and nervousness about the subject of mercenary work was completely gone. _This_ is why she signed up for what she did, and she might as well enjoy it as much as she could.

A predator had found its prey.

"Radio in our position. They'll know we deviated from the time difference. Just let the escape parties know we're going to back them up on extraction." The gruff voice seemed to be back in control, the previous anger gone. The radio squawked, and the orders were relayed.

"It's time to get out. I feel like we're being watched," the gruff voice commanded, and the footsteps began again.

Avi's tail flicked, and both of the mercenaries jumped from their cover to see the three terrorists clustered around the door, a perfect bottleneck position. They did not turn in surprise or realization; the gruff and obvious veteran hefting his arrow blade over his shoulder did not even realize something was wrong as the Black Arrows silently emerged from cover and took aim. The bullets from the lethal SMG punched into the veteran's back, quickly overloading his Aura within the first half second and severing his spine. He collapsed to the ground without a further sound.

Tycho quickly shot the taller but lankier second terrorist with a quick three round burst from the automatic pistol, the bullets also punching through the aura of the faunas and into his brain. He, too, slumped to the ground.

The third smaller terrorist, one with an assault rifle, quickly turned, but was met with a lethal spray directly across his head, making his once rat-like face a bloody mess of bone and lead.

The three collapsed to the ground, weapons banging to the concrete floor next to them. They had no idea what had happened, and they would never find out.

Tycho nodded to Avi, who looked mightily pleased with herself. She and Tycho each dawned a white mask, Tycho grabbing the assault rifle and Avi stripping a few extra magazines from the dead private's body. They both exited the cell, alarm still blaring, red lights still flashing, arrows now fired from their bow.

* * *

"You will be having a temporary new student staying with your team."

Ozpin's announcement surprised Ruby. This was a very uncommon thing to do. Sometimes transfers were assimilated into other teams before finding their own, or even simply moving through the school solo. It had happened once before during last year, but the new student quickly left campus after some incident. Ruby had never even met him.

"Okay sir, but may I get a little more information on her?"

"Actually, it's a him," a smooth and surprisingly familiar voice said behind her. Ruby turned from her position in front of Ozpin's desk to watch the new student walk up to her, having just exited from the elevator doors.

He wore a red suit with a white tie, the suit having an extravagant fire design across the tail end that extended up to his chest. His burgundy red eyes remind Ruby of Professor Port's own suit. He walked with his own cane, a strange black thing that served little obvious purpose. His long, orange-red hair was groomed to the side. The teen grinned, and Ruby immediately knew why she felt he was so unnervingly familiar.

"Hello," he said in a silky, casual voice, extending a hand out Ruby. "My name is Pharus Torchwick.

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

 ** _AN: HAAAAAY U GUUUUYS_**

 ** _Didn't believe me when I said I'd get it out this week, did ya? Who's laughing now?_**

 ** _Actually, it's just me. I love my cliffhangers._**

 ** _Once again, thank you to all of you who have kept up with this story. It has made me empowered to keep writing (with, of course, a combination of enjoyment). I am balancing this with a completely unrelated (partially original) story of my own, so the time schedule with this fic is a little...haphazard._**

 ** _Yeah._**

 ** _Cookies, anyone?_**


	11. Nox Victores, Nox Dolor

_Explore the stone of memories past_

 _That remain a few that know the cast_

 _Into the ruin, domain of dust and marble_

 _That all they found was ancient rubble_

 _River of sand and carving print_

 _That tell the tale in hardened flint_

 _Stories went on and onto the hex_

 _For time devours all and pages and text_

 _It makes me wonder_

 _Who will be next?_

* * *

Nox Victores, Nox Dolor (Interlude 1)

* * *

A gentle tap was heard behind him. That was all that Roman ever got to signal the small boy's arrival. Never more.

Roman turned to see the familiarly cloak figure of the Weed standing before him. Well, standing was stretching it. He _swayed_ in the darkness of the warehouse, his cloak shimmering in the darkness, not allowing Roman to directly see his form, even though the boy was standing completely still. His hood was down, obscuring his eyes, but Roman could feel the Weed's own burning into his.

 _If I had not known who this was, I would be terrified._

That was, to say, that Roman wasn't terrified currently.

Not yet.

"I have the items," the voice said, deeper and gruffer than a thirteen-year-old should even sound like. There was something else in that tone, something Roman was no longer comfortable with and would never get used to.

"That's great! I'm sure you're expecting payment."

"Of course."

Roman turned to face the boy, his cane spinning in his hand. "You'll find the money to your right." He motioned to the right of the boy with his still spinning cane. Atop a nearby crate was a small box. The boy turned towards the box. In the darkness, it took a second for Roman's eyes to process that the boy was no longer standing still, but rather was standing next to the crate, opening the box with slight hesitation. After examining the inside for a few seconds, he closed the small box with a resolute _click_. He turned to face Roman once more.

"I will have to ask something else of you."

"First, the merchandise."

The boy produced three small vials in his hand, each containing a different colored liquid. One was ice blue, one was emerald green, and the third was orange. He laid them on the ground, but made no move to step forward. Roman debated whether to move forward and pick them up or what for him to leave. He decided on the latter.

"A request, you say?"

"A demand, rather."

Something had entered the boy's tone. Almost like… _amusement?_

"I would like you to stop operating out of this sector."

Roman stopped, his reply caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Why would you even want that?"

"I have my reasons." The voice was getting annoyed, though the amusement was still present.

"Why would I ever stop here in Capulo? It's the most profitable of all the Vacuoan sectors!" Roman exclaimed, throwing his arms, and consequently his cane, into the air with surprise, momentarily forgetting his caution and nervousness.

"You just don't understand, do you?" the boy said, an aggressive and equally playful edge entering his voice. He raised his head, showing his face for the first time. Roman saw genuine anger in his cold, emerald eyes.

"Well, it would help if you would at least expl-"

The boy zipped across the divide, throwing Roman's cane to the side and shoving him off his feet in one fell swoop. Roman was knocked to ground, momentarily dazed. He tried signaling his guards hidden in the shadows with a flick of his wrist.

The boy stood over him, a smirk on his face. "Oh, them?" He hadn't missed the supposedly casual gesture. "Just move your head to the right… no, further right… _there_ yah go!"

Four bodies, each lying next to each other, just visible in the flickering twilight of the warehouse.

All four were missing vital parts of their necks.

"If you kill me, another will rise to take my place. Then the White Fang _and_ the Black Rose will be after you! You couldn't possibly escape them both! You would be attacked wherever you go!" Roman stuttered, genuine fear betraying his previously calm exterior.

The boy raised a hand to his head and shook it in mock pity. "Torchwick, how can you attack something that isn't there?"

Then he was blurring again. Roman felt himself being thrown to his feet, a black knife appearing at his neck.

"You never will understand, will you?"

Roman waited in silence.

"You exist because I allow it."

"An̢d ͟you̶ ̸wi̶l̴l ͡e̶n҉d be̕cau͞s͞e̛ ҉I _d͢ema̧nd ̧_ i̴t҉.͏"

Roman felt the knife slowly being removed, but did not feel the blow to the back of his skull which ultimately knocked him unconscious.

From the shadows, a different boy watched.

And plotted.

* * *

 _A few years earlier_...

* * *

Hannon closed his door with a slam. It was dark at this time of night, and he hardly wanted to wake up his family, simply out of common courtesy.

I mean, he _was_ going to die, right?

That… _monster_ had stalked him all the way home, taking what his best colleagues and subordinates could throw at him and still coming on. He wasn't sure about the Aura of that boy, but when he had personally seen a spear pierce the stomach of that creature, and to see the creature to simply _pull it out_ , made for a very awkward and unfortunate situation for the spear-wielder.

As head of a major and widespread security company, he unfortunately (and sometimes illogically) made enemies among some serious criminal organizations. Hannon had made a very, _very_ specific effort to not get involved with any sort of illegal activity, private company or not. He had a family to take care of, and two children to raise.

The cloaked boy had eliminated his guards with a sort of practiced ease Hannon didn't see in most professionals. They were on the front lawn now; unconscious from the lightning-fast attacks the boy had, well, thrown wasn't much of a word to describe it. Not at the speed in which they were launched. He had heard bone snap when a single strike cracked the rib cage of a 200-pound man a head and a half taller than Hannon.

What chance did he stand?

Well, being a trained and veteran Huntsman and soldier certainly helped. He hefted his sword, the security measures in place for his house activating with his touch.

He briefly entertained the idea of waking up his family. He couldn't move them. There simply wasn't enough time. Though, if he were to die tonight, Hannon surely didn't want his family watching.

So there he stood.

And there he stood for a few minutes, his morph-suit still powering and functioning after withstanding an earlier strike from a knife. The adrenaline was still pumping strong; Hannon barely kept hold of his sword as he waited for the monster outside to break in.

A few more minutes passed. They felt like hours. Hannon felt the insane urge to check his wristwatch, even though it was concealed underneath the sleeve of his suit.

Apparently, the monster wasn't getting in.

He finally calmed his frayed nerves. He had the sense to call the authorities. He would need more protection from that… did it even count to call him a boy? With those eyes? Hardly. That monster didn't deserve such an innocent title.

As he reached to call up the holoprojector near the front door, he happened to catch a glance of his security system.

Hannon's security system was top of the line. Most private investors and noble families would have trouble finding better. He wanted to protect his family, after all. Coupled with laser trip lines all throughout the inner workings of the house, a less-than-lethal automated suppression system that could ensnare and incapacitate intruders, and other small yet equally worthy items, the system had yet to be defeated.

The timer on the side of his holo-screen calmly notified him that it had been disabled for well over ten minutes.

Before Hannon could utter a cry, move away from the door, even _react_ in some outward fashion, he felt a hand grab his wrist and launch him towards a nearby wall.

* * *

He came to in a fuzzy daze. He remembered what had happened up until the point he had black out. He was familiar with his surroundings: Hannon was still in the living room, next to the door, next to the holo-image that was still asking for confirmation to call the police. He was further in the room, however.

He was confused.

Not in the usual way as someone would be confused after taking a serious head injury. Not with the fuzzy daze still covering his mind, numbing the pain and making his eyes gleam unhealthily.

He was confused as to why he was tied up rather than dead.

That was the point, right? No one would go through so much trouble as to attack him so directly, to commit oneself to personally and deeply to an assault, to take so much physical damage (which should surely be mortal wounds by now) without trying to kill the person in the end, right?

"You must be confused right now."

Hannon heard the voice behind him. Deadpan. Emotionless. So _young_. It coughed.

"Why am I still alive?" The voice asked itself, echoing Hannon's thoughts. He heard a clang behind him; heard the familiar sound of metal hitting the ground. He assumed it was his sword.

"I had considered killing you. Surely, after all you had done, I wanted to kill you. I _n͡ee̕d̸e͢d_ to kill you." The boy stopped again to clear his throat, this time with a nasally growl. Hannon didn't hear a thing, but the boy appeared at Hannon's side. His previously large, flowing form now seemed more... small. Defeated.

Tired.

His hood was up, obscuring his evil, dead eyes. He silently drifted over to a nearby couch. Crouching, he fiddled with a lamp until he finally found the switch to turn it on. The light illuminated a sleeping form on the couch; one of a little girl, no more than eight or nine, in cute pink pajamas, brown hair, and an adorable little stuffed Goliath by her side. She was sleeping soundly, even with the bright shining throughout the room. The girl was barely younger than the living death that stood over her.

"A young, little daughter, loyally waiting for her daddy to get home late," the sardonic voice mocked.

Hannon struggled at his bonds, but the wire the boy had used was snug and secure.

"Quiet. I haven't finished."

Hannon stopped, fearing retaliation from the monster that stood before him.

"Enough killing has been done tonight. Enough bloodshed, enough hate, enough su̸f͡ferin̕g̨." The boy's tone crept dangerously high before he coughed once more, doubling over as it wracked his small body. _God, he was barely as tall as Hannibal!_ Hannon saw blood splatter against the floor. The light now illuminated the many bloodstains on his grey and black cloak. He was hurt, badly.

"Just remember, Hannon Liatora, that you are to be very careful for the people you work for. _Very_ careful." The voice was hoarse with pain and fatigue. He coughed again, splattering blood on the couch next to Hannon's daughter.

It was a very wet cough.

He reached down again and stroked the girl's long, brown hair. It didn't help that the boy's hand was stained in dried blood. After a second stroke, he stood, slowly walking towards the door, now unlocked, as indicated by a flashing green light from the (useless) security system. The boy tapped the holo-image, selecting the "yes" option from the system's inquiry.

"I do not forgive, and I do not forget. If you are to make the same mistake again…" the boy stopped, turning back into the room. A wraith, a blood-soaked reaper, wishing its victim a goodbye.

"…expect me."

Hannon sat completely still for minutes after the monster had left, when the paramedics and police pulled up to the house, as seen through the still-open front door. The sirens had woken up his family, as little eleven-year-old Hannibal came running from upstairs and eight-year-old Elissa awoke from her slumber on the couch to the horror that lay before her. Hannon's wife was currently away on a business trip; it was just his children at home.

Hannon didn't realize he was sobbing until the police began to untie him. The tears just dripped from his face in a stream; his nose spontaneously began to run, and he had an overwhelming urge to simultaneously fall dead asleep and hug his mortified children.

Naturally, he opted for the latter.

* * *

 ** _OMG GARY STU INCOMING_**

 ** _no pls i have not given up gimme another chance itll tie into the story_**

 ** _NO I WANT MY COOKIES AND IM GONE_**

 ** _pls? dreamlord?_**

 ** _fine._**

 ** _If you guys have any questions on a sort of timeline (for events will need to be kept in their place for the story to make any sort of sense, after all) just PM me. I'll be happy to explain._**

 ** _Other than that, I have absolutely no idea when the next chapters will be out. I'm shooting for this weekend, maybe Sunday or Monday, but really I'm a liar and have no idea._**


	12. Chapters 37-40

_**HAAAAAAY UUU GUUUUYS! I'm alive. I of course apologize for my lack of, well, existence, since it has been two weeks since I updated. Disregarding my busy schedule, I will get much more involved in writing. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up about by next week. I expect to upload on a weekly basis (but we've all seen how good I am at keeping promises). This, however, will not apply this week, as I am about to leave for vacation.**_

 _ **Regardless, enjoy.**_

* * *

 _Upon such gaze a lonely hill_

 _Lies a solidarity peak that stood still_

 _It flickered and glittered with whiteness abound_

 _The sign in which were secrets astound_

 _There the site was waiting to fall_

 _That the soul shall heed and never stall_

 _The calling was adamant, pictured clear_

 _To forward to answer of unknowing fear_

 _This fear somehow took up the call_

 _The call that somehow made me stall_

 _For in fear or in angst I have stalled and trailed_

 _Fearing a fear that I have miserably failed_

 _And here upon which I was to be filled with glee_

 _I find myself drifting upon a sea_

 _Of lost hope and a dream_

I͡ _ẀA҉̨N͝T̨͝ ̶͝T̸͝O ͝͞B͏E͟͞͠ F̡̨́RÈ̕͟Ȩ̷_

* * *

Chapter 37: What You Wish For May Not Be Good

"You really didn't have to do that."

"Why not?" Ruby asked, turning back to Ozpin and rubbing her now slightly bruised knuckles.

"I had a lot more to say."

"You can tell me now, and him later." Ruby's face lit up with the sweetest smile imaginable. She bounced on her tiptoes, hands behind her back. Her eyes shone with her satisfaction.

Pharus groaned on the ground, still unconscious from the lightning-fast punch that had greeted his handshake.

Ozpin sighed tiredly, head in his hands once more. "As I was saying, before Mr. Torchwick decided to interrupt me, was that he was will be staying with your team for in indeterminate amount of time.

"He will be treated as a member of your team. He has no known connections to the White Fang, and no involvement in his father's previous plans. I will try to find him a team, but I do not want to have to reinstate him to another during this time.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Ruby said dejectedly. She turned around toward the elevator; shoulders slumped, slogging towards freedom.

"Oh, and Ruby?"

She perked up slightly, but didn't turn around.

"You might be wondering why I called just you here."

"I was wondering that, sir." Ruby stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I didn't want to have to tell Weiss."

Ruby's shoulder's shot up, but then slumped even lower than they had been previous. Pharus groaned again.

As the doors closed behind her, Ruby missed Ozpin's self-appreciating smirk.

 _Sometimes you have to have a little of fun with your job,_ he thought, waiting patiently in his comfortable chair for Pharus to wake up.

* * *

"Hey D, look at this."

Hannibal walked over to Diana, who was just making for the door of the room. The Scroll showed news coverage of a prison in downtown Vale, which had been apparently assaulted and temporarily occupied by White Fang supporters and members.

"I thought those guys had been pretty much driven from around Vale."

"That makes two of us."

Hannibal turned on the sound, bringing the Scroll back to his own face, Diana snuggling into the corner of his arm to watch. He turned up the sound to listen to the female reporter currently talking.

"… As many as fifteen high-profile prisoners were freed from this attack. All have known tied to the White Fang, and most were being held for violent crimes. A few Huntsmen connected with the Black Rose and other crime syndicates were reported to be involved in the raid. This was a very carefully planned out assault that ended in a hostage situation, claiming eleven soldier's lives and seven combatants. It is unknown how many combatants were involved in the raid, but estimates range from twenty to even fifty. We will keep you updated on any new developments."

"Well then. Looks like Ozpin might actually step in for this," Hannibal remarked.

"Meh. Let's go to classes."

"That's not a phrase I hear often."

"It's History first period, dummy! Of course I'm excited."

"As soon as Weslyn gets back. Hey Scy, have you heard from her?"

Scylax looked up from his book. He was sitting on his bed, catching up on a history chapter he had missed with his mission, among other classes. "And how would I 'hear from her', exactly?"

"Duh. Your Scroll," Diana said, brushing her short hair away from her eyebrows with the wrist of her hand.

"I don't own one."

"…What?"

"I don't own a Scroll."

"Right. Keep forgetting that. Sorry," Hannibal added quickly, before Diana could snarkily reply, pulling out his Scroll once again and texting Weslyn once more. Finally, he got a reply.

"Wait, then why did you check out those microfilms at the bookstore?" Diana absentmindedly asked, hopping from foot to foot in barely contained excitement of Weslyn's return.

"No reason." He seemed to grow a little smaller, pressing himself against the wall of his bed.

Diana stopped, momentarily, throwing a suspicious look towards the still form of the boy. But then he was forgotten, and she was excited again.

* * *

"What can you tell me, sir?"

"I've noticed nothing strange about his behavior or even any outward signs of his…condition. He just seems very quiet and introverted."

"Thank you, sir. I should be heading back to my dorm now. The team is waiting for me."

Weslyn made a move to leave, but Oobleck stopped her with a hand. "Wait."

"I hope you understand that I am discussing this with you purely based on curiosity. Notice how I have no given you any special attention elsewhere, and especially in my class. I know your parents well, but I am very strict when it comes to special treatment from teachers to students based on their connections rather than their persona."

"Yes sir. I understand."

"Excellent. You may join your team, Ms. Brunneis. And let us hope we learn more about your friend soon."

* * *

"I'm here, guys!" Weslyn said, opening the door to the room, a box carried in her other arm.

"Took you long enough."

"What you mean to say is 'Thanks, Weslyn, for getting up at six in the morning and getting us all breakfast!' Right?" Hannibal corrected Diana.

"Of course, of course. Did you get th…?" Diana stopped midsentence when she was Weslyn put down the box from Busckart's and open it, revealing three sprinkled donuts, two bagels, one muffin, and other small, assorted pastries.

Diana quickly dashed forward. In the blink of an eye, one donut was partially lodged in her mouth, and the other two in either hand. Just as quickly, Hannibal grabbed a donut from her right and held her left, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Pace yourself, okay?" he lightly chided.

"F'ne," she giggled, taking the donut out with her right hand, though it was missing a big bite.

Weslyn reached into the box and removed the lemon-poppy seed muffin, taking a bite. Hannibal reached in and removed one of the two bagels, already covered with cream cheese.

"Want anything, Scy?" Weslyn asked in between bites. He looked up from his book, eyeing the open box and pastries inside.

"No thanks. Not hungry."

"Do y'o ev'n e'?" Diana attempted to say. Scylax look expectantly to Hannibal for translation.

"Do you even eat?" he said.

"Yes. Just not regularly."

"Wha' 'o y'o me'n?"

"It's nothing."

Diana swallowed the remains of her first donut and faced the boy.

"No, it isn't 'nothing'. I want full disclosure, _now_. We're your team, we should know. I know faunas can have strange or different eating habits, but it would be slightly comforting to know about them! You think you're _so_ cool for being all-mysterious and stuff. I'm sick of not knowing _anything_ about you except what Ozpi-" She stopped.

Scylax carefully folded the page he was on and closed the book. He eyed the defiant Diana for a few seconds before turning to Weslyn. "You haven't told them?"

Weslyn blushed slightly. She wouldn't meet Hannibal's eyes, which were currently boring into her own with a frightening intensity.

"Hey, glorious leader? You might want to leave the room."

"You didn't tell me something? I thought we made a pact!"

"It was for your own good! Trust me. It's up to Scylax if he wants to tell you. But," she responded, turning to face Hannibal straight on, "You might not like it."

Hannibal looked at the smaller girl for a few more seconds, and finally turned back to Scylax. He had gone to his dresser by his bed and removed a bottle of clear liquid, contained in an unmarked plastic bottle. He poured a little into his hair and rubbed it around, then finally took the bottom of his school uniform (which he had recently grudgingly conceded to wear) and rubbed it his hair, exposing the natural light grey.

Hannibal blinked in surprise. "Okay."

Scylax threw and uncomfortable look to Weslyn, who urged him on with a nod. Sighing, he drew his hands to his eyes and removed his contacts. He did so, but didn't face the three. "Satisfied?"

"Look at us," Hannibal commanded.

Scylax looked up, his yellow reptilian eyes staring back at Diana and Hannibal with surprising intensity. He smiled hesitantly, exposing his white fangs.

The shrillest, most high pitch, feminine screech was heard. Hannibal ran screaming from the room faster than Weslyn or Diana had ever seen him move, his terror following him down the hall. Finally, it abated with a strange degree of silence. Diana and Weslyn looked at each other in awe.

And then simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Did I do something wrong?" Scylax asked hesitantly, yellow eyes flicking uncomfortably between the cackling girls.

"No, no…" Diana managed to wheeze out. After another ten seconds or so, they both managed to calm down. Diana turned back to Scylax, still a little wary but a lot more comfortable.

"He's deathly afraid of snakes. He might act high and mighty when there's actual danger, but it can be ridiculous about what he's really afraid of." She stepped closer, taking a glimpse of his strange eyes from a different angle. A different look showed in her eyes; one of curiosity, with little caution or even awkwardness accompanying it. She stopped only a few inches from his face.

Scylax couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. "What exactly are you doing?"

"They're just so… strange. Very interesting. Do you have scales? I've heard some reptilian fauna have them."

"Y-yes. On my back."

"Can you take off your shirt?"

"Wow, D. Already trying to make a move, I see," Hannibal said from the door, leaning comfortably against the frame.

"Shut up, you. I wanna 'confirm my suspicious', or something as equally unnecessarily worded out that you would say."

"That should be later, though. We have classes to get to." Hannibal eyed Scylax suspiciously as the girls passed him, Diana muttering disappointedly. The boy reapplied his contacts. His hair remained grey, however. He looked back up, his emerald green eyes looking as dead as they had before.

Actually, that was inaccurate. They looked as dead as they always had.

* * *

Chapter 38: Ashes, Ashes

"Pass the salt, would you?"

"You could use a little less of that in your mood."

Tycho sat up from the dirty mat he called his bed, a strange and uncomfortable crick in his neck. He tried to get rid of it by rolling his neck, but it only seemed to make it worse.

"Where did you find that?" Tycho asked, standing up to get a better view of Avi's sandwich.

"Oh, you know, that street vendor thought I looked pretty."

Tycho shot Avi a look as he went to the rundown apartment's window, surveying the street below. He would've thought the police would be looking for them now, but as was the case, the jail raid had not been the only attack. In fact, just today, several coordinated and violent protests erupted in downtown Vale, which had to be beaten back by the police. They weren't _actively_ searching for Tycho and Avi yet, but he expected them to soon. As far as he knew, they were the only two inmates not associated with the White Fang that escaped that night.

"I have one for you here," Avi said with a mouth full of sandwich, motioning to a paper bag sitting next to her. Tycho walked back over, nodding thanks as he removed the glorious sandwich from the bag.

"Where'd you get the clothes?" Tycho sat down next to her and wrinkled his nose before taking a bite.

"Dumpster. I had no choice. Can't go around in the 'ole orange."

They sat in silence, eating the rest of their delicious sandwiches. Outside, the obvious busy traffic signaled their presence in downtown Vale.

"So what do we do now?" Avi said, swallowing the remnants of her sandwich and turning to Tycho.

He sat in silence for a few seconds before replying. "It's obvious that we can't go back to the police. We would be brought up on escape charges, just to add to our growing list of felonies."

Silence.

"But something strange is going on. The White Fang haven't moved this aggressively since their big upset at Vytal. Their leader got arrested, right?"

Avi nodded.

"That means someone else is in charge, and they aren't happy."

"And that means…?"

"I think we should find out."

"Why do you want to play detective? We could just keep our heads low and start a new life, even join a different company! And you suggest that we go after the White Fang?" Avi asked exasperatedly.

"It could be our way to redemption."

Avi thought for a moment, her head resting on her chin.

"You know I won't do anything without you."

"Well, let's see what happens today. I'll consider it." Avi stood up from her seat, moving towards the door.

"I'll see if I can get us some better clothes."

"But the prison jumpsuit is just so _comfortable_!"

She rolled her eyes and walked out.

* * *

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Pharus."

"Good. Great. I know it's probably going to be weird being on a team of just girls, and Weiss can be really moody sometimes, and Yang can be a little rough, and Blake can be a little quiet, and things could get a little hectic, but I just want you to know that you should never piss any of them off."

"Yeah. I can probably tell." Pharus looked a little upset.

Ruby raised her eyebrows. "You haven't even gotten to the hard part yet."

"Which is?"

"Introducing yourself." Ruby had an unwarranted grin on her face, one she kept hidden from Pharus. He groaned.

"Is my life in danger?"

"In the case of Weiss? Maybe."

Pharus stopped. Ruby kept walking, never turning around. "Seriously, I can understand the hate, but am I really in trouble?"

Finally, Ruby stopped, turning back to Pharus. "If she actually gets violent, which I highly doubt," she added, "I will protect you. I promise. Besides, Ozpin wouldn't want you to die on your first day."

Pharus finally sighed. Ruby's jests had been getting to him. "Thanks. I'm not that good of a fighter."

He walked back up to join Ruby. After a few hundred more steps, two flights of stairs, and a few more paces, they stood before the dorm room. The both stood before it, neither moving.

"I can understand why you hate me. I can understand why all of you would hate me. I want to make sure you know I'm not my father."

Ruby looked over, into his red eyes, shining with excitement, and a little bit of fear.

"I know. I'm not one to judge a person by their associates or relatives actions."

She looked down. "I should apologize for the punch earlier. You sort of caught me by surprise."

"Trust me, that's a warmer reception than I usually get."

They both stood in silence. Pharus motioned to the door.

"Ladies first?"

* * *

Jaeger was walking to class, surrounded by team. They were relatively happy; even Caer seemed to have come out of his shell for once. He was currently talking with Labib, trying to understand the fantasy world of the sandy-haired boy's book. Aaryan was listening, occasionally butting in to correct Labib or to add some other useless tidbit of information. Caer was soaking it all up with zestful glee.

Jaeger didn't have the time to spare for such formalities as friendship.

Late the previous night, Jaeger had gotten a message on his Scroll, detailing the White Fang attack that, at the time, was still in progress. He had considered going to the site, but his informant mentioned not only the presence of Black Arrow mercenaries, but also several Huntsman. It wouldn't have necessarily bothered him to run across those fuckwits and give them what they deserved, but Jaeger had other plans. Besides, the authorities were in full force; he was sure to be recognized.

So he waited. Observing.

Planning.

* * *

Chapter 39: What A Nice Flowerbed

"Ugh, I almost forgot what going to school felt like," Jaune groaned, walking out of Dr. Oobleck's classroom, followed by his team. Nora was in a similar condition, but Ren and Pyrrha appeared unaffected from the long day's workload.

"Couldn't we have been given a day off?" Nora asked nobody in particular.

"I told you, we weren't in a combat situation. And there were no special circumstances, so, no," Ren replied.

Nora groaned again.

"What do we do now? We do have a bit of free time left today," Pyrrha asked Jaune.

"Yeah, feels pretty good to have a free period as your last period," Jaune muttered as he stretches his back. "I was thinking that we could find out what happened to Professor Port."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Well, we're not going to ask Ruby or her gang. So who's the one person in town who knows everything worth knowing?"

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "You know how he feels about us. _Especially_ after the second time."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. We won't be bringing Yang this time, so all we need to do is promise not to trash the place."

"I'm in," Ren said.

"Ditto!" Nora added, her previous fatigue completely forgotten.

* * *

They found him behind his bar, his white shirt gleaming underneath the lights of the club. He seemed to have forgone the black vest, though his rose red tie remained part of his attire. Currently, he was speaking to a shady figure sitting at the bar, but the blaring music and talking around the four made their communication impossible to hear. Jaune motioned Pyrrha and Nora back; they were not to interrupt what Jaune assumed to be an information exchange.

Junior tended to be a little pissy about that.

Finally, _finally_ , the figure got up from his seat and shook hands with the much taller bartender. He then promptly blended into the dancing crowd and disappeared.

Junior, looking pretty pleased with himself, turned to survey his popular and crowded club, only to see team JNPR standing to the side, patiently waiting. His mood immediately sobered.

"Hey Junior!" Jaune yelled over the general noise that seemed to cover his entire body with throbbing, pulsating sound. Junior's eyes narrowed, and he motioned them forward.

The din of the club seemed to lower dramatically as the group approached the bar. They each took a seat.

"What do _you_ want?" Junior asked, not without a touch of hostility.

"You know we never did anything, Junior," Pyrrha started, but was quickly met with a gaze from the tall bartender.

"I don't care. If I see her in here again…" He trailed off, his unsaid threat hanging over them.

"Fine. What is it?" Junior finally seemed to control himself.

"What was that earlier? Who was that?" Nora asked excitedly.

"Not very subtle, huh?"

"I don't _do_ subtle."

"That's none of your business."

"Who says it isn't?" Nora asked, rising from her seat.

"Stop it, Nora. We're hear for information," Jaune explained.

"Yeah, most people are. For the third time, _what do you want_?"

"We want to know what happened to the Port family."

Junior leaned back, a hand on his chin. There was a lot of information to sift through.

"There was a police raid on a Black Sun facility in the downtown," he started, leaning back on his seat concealed behind the bar.

"I think Team RWBY was involved. Sergei Port was his brother, who had many connections to the Black Sun. He was supposedly killed in the raid."

"That doesn't sound like the Team RWBY I know. They certainly aren't inclined to killing people…" Jaune was thinking now, trying to put himself in the shoes of Ruby.

"Maybe someone else was involved with the raid? Another student, perhaps?"

"Does the name Weslyn ring any bells? Maybe Gabbro or Labib?" Ren piped up from the side, his Scroll in his hand. He was already a step ahead of them.

"No, none of them."

"Triton?"

"Nope."

"How about Scylax?"

Junior's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that name is certainly familiar. Where did you get it?"

"From the Beacon transcripts. They were made public weeks ago."

"You're saying _he's going to your school_?!" Junior nearly fell off his chair.

None too obviously, he stood and quickly looked over the nearby edge of the crowd behind Team JNPR, as if expecting whomever this 'Scylax' was to be right behind them, listening in. After a few seconds, he looked back at the team.

"I'm doing this because I owe you, alright? If I tell you anything, you better make sure he doesn't know I did. Promise me."

Jaune was becoming alarmed. Did it really warrant this much secrecy? "We promise."

"Good. Good." Junior stroked his goatee, settling back into his chair and looking at the teens before him.

"You kids ever heard of The Weed? He was a big news story eight months back or so."

They nodded.

"Scylax Grendel is the Weed."

All four of them blinked.

Junior moved in closer, lowering his voice into a conspirator's tone. "I know next to nothing about life or persona. But I do know what he's done."

His eyes narrowed even further in anger. "Especially to me."

* * *

The last of the guests were filing out. The tuxedoed guards were escorting those that weren't moving towards the exit. The drunks were dragged out, waiting to be dealt with later. The blaring music finally turned off; now, the grunts and curses filled the large room.

Junior sat behind his bar, cleaning the last of the glasses. A clean workstation was essential, and the habit of constantly cleaning couldn't be described as a bad one. _Run a tight ship, and you will profit._

At least, that's what he remembered. He didn't remember where he even heard it, so he coined it as his own and it stuck.

Junior noticed a small figure of a boy swaying drunkenly side to side, walking up to the bar. He was dressed nondescriptly, only wearing a grey shirt and green shorts. He plopped down on a chair and lay on the bar, his head smacking the countertop. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be sleeping.

Junior motioned to two of his guards, who sauntered over and tapped the shoulder of the boy. He darted up in his chair, only to sway side to side and fall on the bar again.

The guards simultaneously groaned, moving to help the boy. Junior reached underneath to bar to return the now-clean shot glass to its proper place.

He stood up, only to find a knife in his face.

The boy didn't look so drunk anymore, the same way his two guards didn't look alive. They were sprawled out behind the boy, incapacitated from unseen strikes.

"Hello."

Junior swallowed, refusing to move. So far, the guards had largely left the building after escorting everyone out. Militia and Melanie weren't inside. They must have followed the guards outside, probably for some air.

"You're Junior, right?"

Junior nodded yes.

"Good. What are your ties with Torchwick?"

"Nothing. He rented my guards then blew me off." Junior's hands were concealed beneath the bar, where he was slowly reaching for his bat. The boy's emerald eyes narrowed in anger at his answer.

"'Blew you off'? That doesn't sound like the Torchwick I know." The boy removed the knife; it seemed to disappear from his hand. Junior guessed the boy had some sort of wrist sheath. He stood up and started pacing. Junior got a hand on his bat, but he waited.

"Now, why would Roman just… throw you to the wind? I would've at least thought he would kill you the second you became useless and more of a liability. Unless he plans to use you later." The boy stopped pacing, his tone going dangerously low. He turned to Junior, a look of absolute glee on his face. A grin seemed to reach from ear to ear.

His eyes echoed of madness.

"Or maybe you're lying."

A click behind the boy. Melanie Malachite's weaponized heel appeared, grazing across the boy's back, tearing a cut in his shirt. The boy jerked forward, stopping his head from hitting the bar. Junior reached down and brought his bat to bear, changing the weapon into its rocket launcher form.

The boy had stood, looking between Junior's rockets and the Twin's claws and blades. Militia was standing next to her sister, both in fighting stances. A second knife appeared in the boy's hand. No one moved.

Silence.

Junior realized the Twins were waiting for orders. _Nice of them to finally listen_ now _of all times_.

The boy was still grinning. He had his knives down at his sides, his eyes darting around him.

"I'll give you one chance. Get out of my club."

"I'll give _you_ one chance," the boy said, pointing a knife at Junior. His stance had seemed to change instantaneously. "Do not affiliate yourself with Roman Torchwick any longer, or you will suffer the consequences."

Junior was starting to get annoyed. "And why would I do that?"

"Because this club of yours is a very nice flowerbed, wouldn't you think? It would be a shame if a Weed paid a visit."

The boy turned around, his knives vanishing. "I'll take my leave, if you don't mind." He turned and left. The cut in the back of his shirt glared back at the three, a small stream of blood moving down his back.

"The guards will get him outside," Junior told the twins as they made to follow him. "At least, I hope they will."

"Boss, who _was_ that? _What_ was that?" Melanie asked.

"I'm not sure. Certainly someone with a bone to pick with Roman Torchwick. Hey, that rhymed!"

Both of the girls simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"Can we at least get a thank you?" Melanie asked.

"What do you think I pay you for?"

"True."

"Boss, I don't think the guards can stop him," Militia interjected suddenly, the red twin now suddenly jogging towards the exit after the boy. Her sister, after a brief moment of hesitation, followed behind.

"Why's that?" Junior asked, now fast walking after the girls.

"I think he might be the Weed!"

Junior's blood froze, and he sprinted after the girls.

Outside, the bodies glimmered red with blood as the shattered moon shined down from below.

A message on a wall, written with blood in scratchy, hastily drawn letters.

 _Such a nice flowerbed._

* * *

After thanking Junior for sharing his story, the four didn't feel like a having a drink anymore. They left the club, intending to return to school. They had lost their appetite.

* * *

Chapter 40: Let The Fight Begin

"Finally," Labib groaned. "All we need to do is sit back and watch." Team JACL was in the back of the auditorium, sitting in the bleachers.

Dueling practice was finally about to end.

It hadn't been a very interesting day for Labib, and dueling practice seemed to offer no solace. The class was a challenge day, where most of the better fighters were bullying the less accomplished ones. As of now, Riviera was beating up some poor kid that must have barely passed fighting class. He sat with his sword in a ready position, though he couldn't have looked more scared in his life. Riviera flashed a smile.

"Begin!" Glynda shouted, and the counter on the screen above the stage began to count down. Only three minutes left in dueling time.

For the kid, it would seem like years.

Riviera launched herself directly at the boy, who responded with a slow downward slash. She sidestepped, bringing her spear around like a staff into the boy's side with such force he was lifted off his feet, thrown to the edge of the stage.

Labib looked disinterestedly around the large room, trying to find something that would occupy his attention. He had no intentions of fighting today, and he believed his previous performance against Nequam would be enough to deter any challenges brought against him.

Then again, maybe being challenged would provide a reprieve from today's general boredom.

Glancing around the room, he noted team SHDW paying close attention to the fight. Maybe it was something with the participants, but Hannibal seemed particularly interested. Scylax sat hunched over, hood over his head, as if he were sleeping. But Labib saw the minuscule twitches this way to that. He was hardly sleeping now.

Labib continued his survey, until he finally centered on something interesting. There was a group of older students near the entrance of the auditorium. He would just have assumed that this was any other team watching amateurs hit each other with sticks or something equally arrogant as upperclassmen would think, but he saw a fifth student, one he had never seen before.

With a shock, he realized he was staring at Team RWBY.

If you didn't know Team RWBY, then you didn't know the four kingdoms on Remnant. Team RWBY played a huge part in the defense of the Vytal festival last year, where an attack from the White Fang and other terror groups attempted to decapitate the four kingdom's government heads and other important persons, such as the head of several noble families. They were ultimately trumped and defeated by a combination of senior Huntsman and two Beacon teams, Team RWBY and Team JNPR.

Looking back to the fight, he saw Riviera bringing her spear in a sideways strike against the boy, the tip brushing against his armor. The second it made contact, the tip of the usually unassuming blade changed into a glowing, azure blue. It carved a large gash into the boy's steel plating, causing him to jerk back in time to have his Aura remain unharmed. Unfortunately, his reaction left him off balance, as the rabbit fauna quickly reversed her strike and brought the length of her spear across his legs, knocking him on his back. Before he could even sit up, the spear was in his face. The duel finished with a half-hearted clap as the satisfied Riviera and the exhausted and battered boy returned to their respective teams.

Glynda retook the stage. "We have time for one more duel today. Please choose carefully! Remember that all challenges can be declined," she added, eyeing the boy that was limping back to his team.

Silence. Most of the bullies and other equally aggressive kids had gotten their share, and the same person wasn't allowed to call two challenges in one day.

Labib felt movement beside him. Jaeger had stood up, his hood covering most of his face, his eyes grinning in an unseen smile.

"Jaeger Pruun, challenging Scylax Grendel."


	13. Chapters 41-44

_**Welp. Here we are. You, sitting behind your computer screen, finally my longest chapters I've submitted up until this point. Me, furiously pouring out material so I don't fall behind as much as I just did.**_

 _ **It's been nearly a month and a half, huh. I can guarantee this won't happen again. Not with the rate at which I'm working. Real life came knocking and said no, so once again. Here we are. Should be uploading sometime between next week and the week after that. I can GUARANTEE that.**_

 _ **At least we still have cookies.**_

* * *

 _Are you in pain, like me?_

 _Are you insane, like me?_

 _Are you alone, like me?_

 _Have you no home, like me?_

 _Are you deranged, like me?_

 _Are you strange, like me?_

 _Lighting matches just to feel the flame burn, like me?_

 _And all the voices tell me_

 _You cannot wake up_

 _This is not a dream_

 _You're not a human being_

 _You run on death and misery_

 _Well, my heart is cold_

 _And my hands aren't made of gold_

 _But would you just trust me?_

 _Come away with me_

 _For you are not alone_

 _There are alternatives to your misery_

* * *

Chapter 41: The First Confluence

Contrary to what Labib might've though, Scylax was fighting the increasingly difficult urge to fall asleep.

The room was cold. The metal bleacher in which he currently sat was equally chilled, and didn't seem to be warming up. Even with the concentration of bodies in the room meant nothing; the room was too large, the heat, too dispersed.

So there he sat, trying to stop shivering, trying to make no one saw him, particularly his team, when he heard his name from an unlikely source.

Weslyn felt Scylax bolt upright next to her. Before, he seemed to almost be leaning against her, trying to stay awake for the remainder of the class. She didn't know much about reptiles, but she did know that being cold made them sluggish and tired. Perhaps that was what was happening now?

Whatever Scylax must have been feeling before, he certainly didn't seem sluggish when he practically jumped from his seat.

Glynda eyed the two hooded figures from the stage. "Do you wish to accept, Scylax?"

"Wait, you're actually gonna allow this?" Jaeger asked from the stands.

"Well, you two were barred from accepting challenges from any other classmates, but I would like to assess your skills. Both of you."

Jaeger shrugged, and walked to the stage, his brown hood still obscuring his eyes. He no longer felt as confident as he had before. The challenge was supposed to be a little jest, maybe to clarify the vague yet decisive term 'No challenges'.

"And Ozpin wouldn't be opposed to this?" Jaeger asked, walking up the steps to the ring, where the black-cloaked teen patiently waited, his face a dead plain of emotion, almost obscured by his hood. He didn't look to be concentrating, not even thinking or preparing.

Just…dead.

Jaeger took his place at the opposite end of the ten-meter wide ring. Glynda walked up next to him. "Well, it's easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, right? Just prepare yourself."

The shadow before Jaeger almost seemed to smile.

* * *

"Well, this surely got interesting," Blake commented.

"Would that other boy even stand a chance?" Ruby asked.

"Who is that?" Pharus asked Ruby, motioning towards the ring, where the two fighters were approaching their battleground.

"Which?"

"The boy in black."

"Well, all I know is he's named Scylax, and he's really fast, and he helped us on our raid, and I don't trust him, an-"

"Ruby, let's make an attempt to be coherent, okay?" Weiss asked, turning around from the ring to face the two. "His name is Scylax. Freshman. Fast fighter." She turned away, watching the stage. "Oh," she added as an afterthought, "and contrary to how he might appear, he's also batshit insane."

"Hey, that's kinda strange," Blake whispered to Weiss, pointing at the monitor now displayed the combatant's Auras and the time of the match, sitting at a comfortable two minutes.

Jaeger's carried a respectable bar beneath his picture, significantly larger than the average dueler seen here over the past few days, showing his possession of a not insignificant Aura. There was just a simple problem.

Scylax didn't have a bar.

"He seems familiar…" Pharus mumbled, trying to place the boy's stance and movement. Maybe a good look at his face would help…

As the match started, Pharus closely examined his memory, discarding information and soaking those previously lost. It helped to have a photographic memory only _slightly_ disturbed and altered by only _mild_ childhood trauma.

Suddenly, he remembered. He wouldn't need a face. He never even had a face in the first place.

Only a cloak and knives.

* * *

A tone sounded, and the boy in black and grey shot forward like a bullet, a whiz of motion, towards the brown-cloaked boy. Jaeger sidestepped right in time, surprised by his speed. He quickly dashed back, only to realized the boy was coming at him again. He threw a slash, the blades in his gloves unsheathing, making a ripping sound as the silvery metal revealed itself to the word and screamed for blood and bone.

The shadow ducked under the strike, seemingly without losing speed. It closed the gap instantaneously, throwing a punch at the brown boy's hooded face.

Only, the brown boy wasn't there anymore.

He wasn't anywhere.

The shadow looked around, confused, until suddenly staggering forward, like someone had dropkicked its back. Its knives jumped from its wrists silently, both of them flashing behind the boy as he pivoted with the kick, using the force to spin back at Jaeger, the black metal of the knives whistling from the speed.

The swipe found no mark, and threw the boy off balance. He righted himself again, only to stumble once more as he was shoved from the front. This time, he lunged at the source of the strike, and Jaeger materialized into being, falling under the surprisingly heavy weight of Scylax's form, their respective cloaks almost seemingly locked in a battle of drab colors.

 _Shit, he's fast_ , Jaeger thought as he lunged forward at the boy on top of him. The strike was batted aside as a black knife appeared out of nowhere, then suddenly switching direction and darted at Jaeger's throat. He shifted his form, and Scylax pitched forward onto Jaeger's chest once again. Jaeger scooted back further with the same motion, bending his knees, and kicked, launching Scylax back a few feet as the kick connected with his face. The shadow landed on his back, only to jump to his feet again, this time not moving. He didn't see Jaeger anymore. His face stung from the strike.

Scylax stood completely still. Listening.

Waiting.

* * *

"What's up with the scoreboard?" Diana whispered to Weslyn, as Scylax stood still, alone in the middle of the ring. The reveal of Jaeger's Semblance was certainly a surprise, but what was possibly more intriguing was the way Scylax handled it. It almost seemed like he fought someone with a similar ability before.

There he was, standing still as a statue in the middle of the ring. The room was completely silent. Already, the crowd had gasped at the skill displayed on either side; Scylax's speed was astounding, as well as Jaeger's unique Semblance. Many had noticed the scoreboard as well, but had nothing left to say. The fight consumed everyone's attention.

Weslyn didn't realize it was over until after it happened.

Scylax, with a blur of movement, reached over his shoulder, without spinning around, and grabbed something. His fingers closed around Jaeger's wrist, his silver claws descending on the smaller boy's neck. Scylax stopped the strike, and grabbed the upper arm with his other hand, throwing him over his shoulder, and with a crash, a very surprised and dazed Jaeger struck the ground.

Scylax, a hand still on Jaeger's wrist, placed his knee on his opponent's neck, not applying pressure, but restricting his movement. A puzzled look came over his face; his hood had been thrown back sometimes during the fight. With a quick movement, he pulled Jaeger's sleeve down. He examined the wrist for a couple seconds, his expression becoming more pensive. Jaeger groaned and tried to move. The room was completely silent. Finally, he stood; in the same movement, turning to face Glynda, while Jaeger shakily rose to his feet.

Jaeger's Aura was only at half ( _that throw must've had some force behind_ it), but it was unquestionable who had won the fight.

* * *

Chapter 42: Let The Stage Be Set

"Well, that was… amazing," Weslyn breathed as Scylax walked back to his team, amid exorbitant, and slightly hesitant, cheers from the other teams. They respectfully clapped for Jaeger, who still appeared dazed. It surely was a big hit he took; when Scylax threw him down, the dust on the stage was actually thrown into the air.

"Well, it wasn't really anything," the boy mumbled, sliding onto the bleachers next to Weslyn. Weslyn thought she saw a hint of a blush and a smile, but he had dawned his hood, and the shadow that obscured his face made it impossible to be sure. And he was kicked in the face, after all.

"Don't degrade something like that," Hannibal said, reaching over and slapping the boy on the shoulder. "That was pretty awesome."

"Have you fought anyone with invisibility before?" Diana asked, her face and posture significantly less excited than the rest of the group.

"A long time ago," was his answer, as Glynda announce the final assessments for the class, as the day was at its end. Everyone, even though duel class was the most popular and anticipated class, was ready to be free for the rest of the day.

As announcements ended, the four stood from their seats and filed out of the auditorium. They were the last group to leave, as Glynda had a few words for them.

"Don't get cocky, Mr. Grendel. I will be elevating your duel status not only for the upcoming tournament, but for your class rank as well. You will begin dueling with upperclassmen, and I have just the team in mind."

"And that would be?"

"I will inform you later, should they be willing to accept you as a sparring partner. Meanwhile, you four are dismissed."

Hannibal respectfully nodded, and the four turned and walked out. An older team was waiting by the doors.

Weiss watched team SHDW walk towards the doors and tried to look Scylax's face, currently still obscured by the hood. The whole glitch thing with the scoreboard seemed strange; the board had never acted up like that before. To confirm her suspicions, logic (achem), logically told her that a personal shield shouldn't have stopped the kick from Jaeger, leaving a not insignificant mark on his face. As he stepped in close, she gave up and looked down at Pharus, standing beside her. If looks could kill, everyone in the building would be dead. Then the seething look was gone, and he assumed a naturally disinterested face. He noticed Weiss, turning to glance. She scowled in return and looked away, brushing past the silver girl and walking towards Glynda. The team followed close behind.

"Mrs. Goodwitch, why have you called us here?" Ruby asked, the four girls and one boy standing even with each other. Glynda was sitting on the edge of the stage, flicking through her Scroll. She pocketed it and stood, a smug look on her face.

"How are you five getting along?" she asked, dodging the question.

Weiss face contorted into another scowl, and she turned away from Pharus. Blake and Yang eyed Pharus suspiciously. The red-haired boy couldn't look any meeker. It seemed that if were to step or speak out of line, some part of his body would be violently and painfully broken.

"About as well as we could hope," Ruby replied, either ignoring or not noticing the obvious hostility surrounding her.

"Well enough," Glynda replied. She started pacing before them.

"How did you like today's final duel?"

"It was surprisingly enjoyable to watch," Yang interjected.

"The skill displayed was definitely sometime to take note of," Blake added.

"I'm faster," Ruby angrily glanced at her teammates before glancing back at Glynda, who was trying to conceal a smile and failing miserably.

"And of Scylax?"

The girls exchanged glances.

"To be honest, Mrs. Goodwitch, I'm shocked you even allowed him to fight. His speed is incredible. But we've all seen what he can do," Weiss said, speaking for the group. "I was scared that the other boy wasn't going to survive the duel."

"For your information, that boy is an extremely adept fighter," Glynda slightly bit, angry with students questioning her judgment.

"Should he even be allowed to duel with the other students?" Blake asked.

"What a great question! And I have just the answer. That's why I called you here."

The girls could piece it together.

"No."

All five gazed in surprise at Pharus. He hadn't said a word since the meeting, but the absolute and unyielding tone that he used was certainly a shock to his previous silence and meek stance.

"I have a really bad feeling about him," he continued, glancing up to the peering eyes of the five before him. "I just can't bring myself to trust him."

"Unfortunately, that's not for you to decide," Glynda cheerfully responded, facing Ruby. "It's up to your team leader."

Ruby thought; for five full seconds, she considered as many possibilities and complications as she could think of. Finally, she made her decision.

"We accept."

* * *

"How did you get that much money?" Weslyn asked.

"I don't really have anything to spend my student allowance on, so I just kinda…saved it up."

The two were at Busckart's, trying to eat something. Diana and Hannibal were off trying to study for an upcoming test, and Scylax and Weslyn were soon to join them. But Scy had to insisted on coming here for a short break and "a bite to eat".

Scylax was sitting in his chair across from Weslyn, literally surrounded by food. A few bagels here, a sandwich in his right hand, a bottle of water in the other. He hadn't stopped eating since the food was procured.

"So, you wanted to tell me something?" Weslyn said, trying to get the attention of the ravenous boy.

He swallowed the remnant of a bagel and replaced his half-eaten sandwich in the plastic wrapping. He set the bottle down, too.

"Yeah. I need to warn you about something." He leaned in close, lowering his voice. Weslyn did the same, her face only a foot from his. She thought the action was a little unnecessary; sure, the café was a little crowded with students having just finished classes, but the room was loud enough that eavesdropping on any other tables was nearly impossible. She tried to not blush with slight embarrassment.

"That boy from earlier, the one that I dueled with?" Weslyn nodded. "Do you remember when I rolled up his sleeve after defeating him?" Another nod.

"I saw a mark on his wrist. A brand of a mercenary group, with a picture of a sword shattering another. He is, or at least was, part of the group Venator Venatores, or Hunters of Hunters."

"Naturally, by their name, you could tell what they do." He leaned back, crossing his arms to see her reaction.

It was relatively minimal. "Okay, but how do you know about them?"

"I killed his father."

A pause. "You're kidding me."

"Yeah, I'm kidding you. " He leaned forward again, but kept his regular distance. Weslyn was grateful. The position was not only drawing a few looks, but felt extremely awkward.

"But I have had a few…encounters with them before. Not pleasant. There was blood. They had been hired to kill me."

"Another thing. Most if, not all of them, are part of a family unit that have been in the Order for generations. I don't know how old it is, how it started, but I know that they tried to kill me on many occasions. They were good fighters, too."

"Any of them with invisibility?" Weslyn asked sardonically.

"No. That's a different story."

"How did you even… I don't know what you did, but you somehow you stopped his strike while he was still invisible! How did you know?"

"To be honest, I'm not too sure myself. I think I heard the air move, then realized what was happening and guessed."

"The…air… _move_?" Weslyn was dumbfounded. "I know your reflexes are good, but are they _that_ good?"

"I think the easiest way to explain it would be to define the word 'speed'." He settled back into a more comfortable position on the usually comfy wooden chairs. "Speed can be defined many ways, but the speed I'm referring to is mental speed. That would be your reflexes. Fast reflexes make the world around you… slower. It's like how lizards can go from completely still to sprinting in half a second. The world around you just slows. It seems regular to anyone that can't change his or her reflex speed, which would be basically everyone. Everyone is interpreting the world at slightly different speeds, but to them, it seems normal. I'm sorry, do you…do you understand? I don't explain things very well."

"I'm…managing," Weslyn responded. "But what do you mean by 'changing your reflexes?"

"I'll get to that later. What I'm saying is, I have some pretty fast reflexes, if I let hubris do the talking. You speak slowly to me, and if I spoke as fast as I could, itwouldbenearlyunintelligible." Scylax's voice shot up near the end. He had spoken seemingly regularly, but at the same time, several times faster than normal.

And for some reason, it was a little beyond unnerving.

"Thanks. I think I understand now. But can you… never do that again, please?"

"Sure. Sorry." He looked a little crestfallen.

A period of silence. No one knew what to say.

"You remember on the roof, that night?"

"The night you kicked me off?"

"Yeah…sorry. You mentioned showing me your Semblance next time you dueled. Did you…use it?"

"Hey guys." Hannibal pulled up a chair next to Scylax, eyeing the wrappers and still uneaten foodstuffs surrounding the boy. Diana sat next to Weslyn.

"Whatcha guys talking about?" Diana said, being her usual giggly self.

"Nothing of merit," was the answer from the boy. Weslyn just shrugged. Her ears twitched.

"Sure… Hey, we were gonna look into eating out tonight. Any ideas of places? We know of a few, and our glorious leader has saved up enough money, so any suggestions?"

"Actually, you can use my money, Hannibal. I have plenty," Scylax said, showing the uneaten items he was currently packing to go.

Diana's smile faltered. "Are you sure? Would a joint bill work?"

"No, seriously. I haven't paid for food in the past week, so I'm completely fine. It's not like I'm going to use it for anything else."

Diana shot Hannibal a look. A minuscule nod confirmed her thoughts. She turned back to Scylax. "We would be happy to accept your offer to feed us." She was smiling again.

"And will you be joining us?" Hannibal asked, an eyebrow rose in a comedic look.

"Sure. I may not eat anything, but I'll tag along at least."

"Good. Where to now?" Hannibal asked the group.

Scylax stood. "I actually need to get back to the school. Studying for an upcoming test, and I'm going to Dr. Oobleck for help."

Hannibal nodded, and the boy with the appetite walked out of the café.

* * *

Chapter 43: Behind Closed Doors

"How goes it, oh Red One?"

"Quiet, you. The accent doesn't help me despise the nickname."

"Your report for Command?"

"Everything's moving into position. We have several operatives near and around premise. The inner workings should already be uploaded to your computer."

"Excellent."

"Just…one complication."

A pause. "Well?"

"A vigilante."

Another pause. "Him?"

"Yes."

An eerie silence descended. There were no more words needed.

"This complicates things. Don't get identified. Find a way to deal with him. Kill him, if necessary."

A grin, devoid of any benign humor.

Simply malice.

"Gladly."

* * *

Scylax rolled over in bed. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on the words of a history he didn't know, a context he didn't understand, a word or phrase that held no meaning. Being behind in studies was possibly one of the most frustrating things he's felt since he became a student. Sure, he understood its significance and purpose, but how were those aspects supposed to help him learn? He groaned, rolling back over to try and focus on the printed words inside his history textbook. He had a little time before Dr. Oobleck would see him for tutoring, but he left the café earlier than necessary. The conversation was becoming too… he searched for the right word. 'Inquisitive' seems to work, but that would imply an almost hostile or prying intent, where there was just curiosity. 'Nosy' seems a little insulting. He settled on 'analytical'. It seemed right to describe someone like Weslyn in such a fashion. She was just curious; he wasn't exactly being the most open of people.

What did he think of Weslyn?

He certainly liked her, not insignificantly more than Diana and Hannibal. He liked them too, but… he _trusted_ her. He felt shocked at the admission. What happened to this hardened boy of the streets, struggling to stay alive, not trusting anyone or anything? The cynical look and dead eyes weren't just a façade. He was still alive because of his outlook, and he didn't plan to give it up now. His face made him look like he was hiding himself, and, in a way, he was. But what he thought was clearly on his face most of the time; total cynicism of everything around him; a constant, omnipresent wariness filled with mistrust and cold, blank eyes.

For whatever reason, that feeling wasn't there with Weslyn.

And for once, that realization made him happy.

He rolled out of bed. He was late.

Never a good thing to be on the first meeting.

* * *

He sat in the lecture room, directly before the teacher's desk. It was silent. Peacefully so. The air conditioning blew in the background, and his school uniform did little to protect him. Oh, how he longed for his warm, comfortable cloak.

Scylax hoped Mr. Oobleck would come soon. He found himself nodding off in the cool air of the room, the chair he was sitting in slowly becoming more and more welcoming.

Wait.

What was that noise?

Scylax assumed his posture, his head resting on his hand, which was resting on the armrest. Hopefully, the ploy of resting was to be with him.

The noise again. It was no growl.

It was a hiss.

"Mr. Grendel, I am well aware you know of my presence. Please turn around."

Conceding the ploy to Dr. Oobleck, Scylax stood and turned, only to stop in mild surprise.

Dr. Oobleck was standing a few meters behind the boy, carrying a cage with a thin, brown cover over it. It reeked of mystery. The professor walked closer and around Scylax, moving to his desk and setting the cage on top. It shook a little from a force within, betraying the contents concealed inside.

"Sir?"

"I just have a few questions for you."

Oobleck threw up the drab cover from the cage. What it contained within was possibly one of the cutest and most adorable things Scylax had to ruthlessly kill on multiple occasions.

* * *

"Why do you guys think he's doing all this?"

The three still found themselves sitting around the table at Busckart's, Hannibal now nursing a cup of tea, Diana, merely water.

"It's more than a little strange as to what happened today," Weslyn said, placing her cup down after thinking over Hannibal's question.

"First of all, the scoreboard glitched out, and now he's claiming to have fought someone with invisibility before, and now he's warning me about a mercenary group the boy he fought against in the duel, and-"

Hannibal's eyebrows rose. "Mercenary group?"

Weslyn explained Scylax's actions during the duel, and the Order.

"Well, that's certainly strange. We know he's been doing a lot of, achem, fighting while he was on the run. Surely he's been around a bit."

"Yeah, but there seemed to be something in the way he said. Something that felt like… loss. Or at the very least, bad and still very prevalent memories."

Hannibal shifted in his seat. "Let's keep an eye out for that Jaeger guy. I have a feeling he's not going to just fade into insignificance anytime soon."

He stood up. "We should get going. Gotta few stops to make before I get back, so go to the dorm without me."

* * *

"This is absolutely… fascinating."

Two black eyes, surrounded by black and white on either side, stared into the green eyes of a maniac.

And they almost looked to be grinning.

"It's hard to explain, but I seem to have a sort of… affinity." Scylax sat on the chair before the creature, his eyes boring into it. It stared back from the cage; it's tongue flicking in an out, eyes locked on him.

"Sir, why have you brought a Taijitus to our tutoring session?"

"Just a few questions that needed answering. Wait! What are you…"

Scylax reached over toward the cage, the baby Grimm tracking his hand with its eyes. It remained completely still, usually a bad sign when it came to dealing with snakes. Its eyes flashed red.

Scylax reached up and unhooked the latch to the cage.

Instantly, before Oobleck could react, the snake lunged forward, fangs unhinging from the top of its mouth and coming to bear.

Scylax hardly moved as the snake landed on his chest, pushing him back into the chair. It curled into a ball on his lap and rose, coming face to face with the boy. Oobleck dared not move. A baby Taijitus had a deadly poison exclusive to its age, and Scylax would die faster than Oobleck could find medical attention. As well as that, baby Taijitus' have a special ability that allows them to expand many times their original. Something involved with their growth, no doubt, but research has answered no questions posed by the peculiar and strange ability. Regardless, the originally fifty-something pound, meter and a half snake now expanded double that, weighing something around 150 pounds and nearly four meters long.

Its fangs grew, too.

So Oobleck did the only thing he could do: sit still and hope.

The Taijitus stared into Scylax's eyes, unmoving. It tongue flicked out again, tasted the air, and flicked back in. Its bony covering on its head glimmered in the light of the room, like polished ivory before a fire. It moved close to his face, it's snout almost touching Scylax's nose. A few tense seconds passed. Scylax didn't blink.

He just stared.

In a burst of movement, the snake slithered around his neck and torso, loosely wrapping its body around the boy, before settling down in his lap. Not in a restrictive way. The Taijitus almost seemed… content.

"It's alright now, sir. It shouldn't attack."

"How did- what- how?" Very rarely in life had Dr. Oobleck found himself a loss for words. This was undoubtedly one of those times.

"To be honest sir, I have absolutely no idea." Scylax reached out stroked the top of the snake's head. It closed its eyes in quiet delight.

"But this doesn't work with other Grimm. Only snakes."

"Strange. Very strange. Well, if you must ask, Mr. Grendel, I had brought the snake along for demonstrative purposes, but I see you've gone and derailed that little idea of mine. Shall we get into the tutoring session?" Oobleck seemed anxious to move away from the topic of snakes.

"And what of him?" Scylax asked, motioning at the Grimm sitting on his lap, a very unserpentine look of content on the snake's face.

Oobleck examined the Taijitus again. It seems to be sleeping, relishing in the touch of the much smaller boy.

"We should replace it in its cage. It is a dangerous Grimm, after all."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Can you _guarantee_ , Mr. Grendel, that it will not attack?"

"Yes, sir."

Oobleck stood back, a hand on his chin. _What a question to answer_.

"I supposed I should ask Ozpin."

* * *

Chapter 44: Whispers Of A Memory, With A Cherry On Top

Hannibal was walking around the streets of Vale. It was nearing night, and as the street lamps flicked on with their florescent glow, the shopkeepers closing up their wares for the night, he found himself thinking.

No, contemplating was a much more accurate work. Reminiscing might be an equal way to describe it. He was thinking about his past, the mysterious present, and the obscured future, all at once. His mind flicked from one thought to the next, as he mindlessly put one foot in front of the other, walking down a relatively deserted sidewalk. There weren't many animals this deep into the city- the only real sound of the change from day to night was a slight but still perceptible volume in the amount of car engines, shouting, honking, and the other mechanical and human noises that best described large, bustling cities.

He was walking along a narrow street, surrounded by three to four story buildings with drab or grey colors, the shops closed up for thirty minutes or so as they transfer to dinner or close up for the night. The walkway was relatively clear, with only a few people commuting.

He did a lot of thinking while he walked. It was enjoyable. So much could be d-

 _Smack_.

"Sorry! Sorry, didn't see you."

Hannibal had accidentally run into a girl, somewhere around his age. She wore a plain, open jacket, just a color of grey, which seemed to fit in well with the surrounding buildings, along with a navy blue blouse and skirt. Her hair was stark black, and her eyes…

Her eyes were as startlingly emerald green as Scylax.

Hannibal blinked. He was leaning in closer for a better look before he realized what he was doing. The girl, diminutive next to Hannibal, was almost visibly shrinking away from his much larger and intimidating form.

"Sorry," he muttered again, moving to the side and walking past the confused girl.

No matter what he thought of, all of them tended to lead back to Scylax.

Something was wrong with that boy. Something terrible wrong. There were no other words to describe him: something was just so completely _not right_. The way he moved, the way he talked, and the way he fought, just screamed _wrong_.

He didn't trust the boy. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know what he even wanted to feel.

Hannibal never had to pick up anything before returning to the dorm. He would often find himself pacing around a room or small area before he realized he was in deep thought. The girls knew he liked to walk while he thought.

He used to walk with his dad all the time. It made him feel better.

 _Oh God._

 _What should I tell Dad?_

After several more minutes of personal deliberation, Hannibal finally made up his mind. He checked the time on his Scroll. Nearly time for the group to meet at the restaurant. Apparently the idea tonight was some sort of Hibachi place, where the chefs cook in front of your table. Sounds fun, he supposed.

As he walked down the sparse streets of downtown Vale, heading towards the school, he realized he was being followed.

He couldn't see the person, or persons if it may be, but the gut feeling he had been so carefully trained and primed to trust was screaming a warning at him, and he still painfully remembered the last time he ignored it. Hannibal wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't armed; his weapon was locked safely in his locker, and he was practically alone on this deserted sidewalk. Occasionally a car would come by, its headlights betraying the usually eco-friendly, quiet electrically driven vehicles. But other than that, the street as a whole was empty. He gave silent thanks for the heavy population of bright street lamps that lined the roads.

Luckily for Hannibal, he continued walking; all the while, making no motion that he noticed his stalkers.

After what felt like hours with his nerves constantly on edge, ever after he managed to walk into the bustling nightlife of midtown Vale. There, he was surrounded by the tall, almost cookie-cutter commerce, with its flashing signs and adverts, and, of course, people. Situated between a closed chinaware shop and a fine dining buffet (man, this city is weird), he found the entrance to the restaurant, and with it, half his team waiting patiently for his arrival.

"Hey, Glorious Leader. Back from your adventure?" Diana quipped.

"Yeah. Sure," he muttered distractedly. Diana exchanged glances with Weslyn, but they both knew better than to ask. Hannibal would tell them on his own time, when he felt ready.

"Any ETA on snake boy?"

"Snake boy? Really? That's the best you could come up with?" Diana giggled.

"And you? What's your nickname?"

"I don't know, Scales? Fang? Something cool and mysterious, like the Weed?"

"You're making him sound like a goddamn plant." Hannibal closed his eyes and smiled, the darker and alert mood replaced by the casual conversation.

"As to answer your question, he has no Scroll," Weslyn said, piping into the conversation for the first time. "For all we know, he could be in the restaurant."

"Meh. Doesn't seem like that type. Let's just get a table and wait. I'm sure he'll be here eventually," Diana said, turning and walking towards the cramped building.

* * *

The girl watched the three go into the crowded restaurant with a small look of frustration. She almost had that large boy, but he seemed to know something was up. Sure, he looked plenty intimidating; his size and grey coat gave him the aura of a Huntsman, or at least a student. They tended to carry more money than the average person, for they never held fear for the thieves that populated the alleys and streets of Vale. To be fair, she preferred easier prey. Sure, she was looking for someone just like him, but there were plenty of the like in Vale. _The grapes were sour anyways, the fox reasoned_. She grinned.

She would just have to find someone else.

She waited in the shadows, assessing targets. Soon, another student would come along.

Very soon.

* * *

Scylax walked along the streets, making his way towards the restaurant. He wasn't used to eating out at actual restaurants. Surely he should feel more excited than he currently did.

Maybe it was the crowds. He was familiar with the nightlife of cities like this, but to actually be "a part" of it was a little awkward. He hated the closeness of the crowd, and his lack of camouflage. He could've made it to the restaurant on rooftop alone while being completely undetectable from the ground. It irked him, but he found himself in a pair of loose grey jeans, a comfortable t-shirt covered with a tight-fitting grey-ish hoodie. Scylax still couldn't believe he forced himself into them. Even with their looseness, the jeans seemed to restrict the full range of movement for his legs. He hadn't even brought his knives; for the life of him, he couldn't find a way to conceal the usual flick-down sheathes he was so fond of.

After somehow convincing the Taijitus into the cage again, it shrank it its original size and curled up into a content, scaly ball. Its snout seemed to be stretched in a grin of satisfaction. Once again, Oobleck remained dumbfounded, but made no comment. The history lesson commenced, albeit _slightly_ distracted. Scylax liked the fast-paced speech and teaching of Oobleck. Already, he was growing fond of the doctor, though it would be a stretch to say he really trusted anyone at this school.

Well, Weslyn was a big maybe. Ozpin too. The infirmary doctor seemed nice enough, too.

It felt so strange to be surrounded by people that weren't constantly trying to kill him.

 _Meh. Idle ponderings are something I do well_.

He continued on, moving away from the school. As he went deeper and deeper into the center of town, the buildings grew tall, the crowds grew larger, and the colors grew more dazzling. He was surrounded by the blaring lights of adverts and "OPEN" signs, with their piercing and annoying neon, flashing colors all seemingly trying to outdo each other in flare and attractiveness.

For whatever reason, Scylax found these colors to piss him off.

Scylax still didn't have a Scroll, but he did have the name of the restaurant- The Red Koi. With the helpful guidance tools of signs in the crowded town square and beyond, he found himself on the right track to the place. He briefly considered whether he was to eat anything there, but shrugged. He would examine the menu first. He turned into a nearby alley; the map showed it to be convenient shortcut, and, though not very well lit, did not bother Scylax's relatively competent night vision.

As Scylax turned into the alley, with its regular assortment of pipes, dumpsters and flickering lamps, he saw someone in front of him. Her back was turned to him, but he could clearly make out a black jacket and blue skirt. A girl, wearing a black jacket and navy blue skirt was walking in front of him, hands in the pockets of her jackets. Something seemed… off about her. He couldn't place it, but when he felt something was wrong, he took notice. Scylax continued walking down the alley, matching pace with the girl, but staying a good twenty feet behind her, completely silent. The new sneakers he picked up two days ago certainly helped on the broken and dirty concrete of the alley. When she reached the other end of the alley she turned right and walking away, never noticing or caring to notice the boy silently padding along behind her.

 _Whatever. I'm sure it was nothing to do with me._

And the thoughts of the girl left his mind when he spotted the char-red restaurant across the street.

In the mostly lit room of the restaurant, Scylax located his team sitting in a half circle around the grill that marked the place's biggest advertising point. Unfortunately, they were already eating. A mix of fried rice, grilled shrimp, and other meats peppered the large bowl, still steaming from its recent preparation. A smell that must've made regular people's stomachs rumble in anticipation stemmed from its delicious source. Hannibal and Weslyn were laughing at something.

"Fi'ally," Diana said, her words muffled by the food still in her mouth, stopping to swallow before continuing. "The most generous host shows his face! What've you been doing in your off time, hm?"

"Oh. Hey," Scylax mumbled, sliding into an empty chair between Diana and Hannibal. He looked at the bowl in front of him, a mild tinge of regret showing on his face.

"I don't think I'll eat tonight," he glumly answered, guiltily staring back at his lap.

Diana couldn't have been more ecstatic. "More for me!" she gladly answered, swiping the heavy bowl off the table and scooping a huge chunk of rice into her own half-empty bowl. Already, she started eating more. Scylax looked up, only to see Hannibal and Weslyn's concerned eyes. He realized he was probably acting strange.

"I hate to waste food. But I just can't force myself to eat."  
Hannibal, satisfied with his answer, turned back to his mostly empty bowl, scooping the remains of his meal into his mouth. Weslyn stopped staring, but kept throwing glances at the boy, her food already done. The table sat in relative silence as the sound and smell of cooking food wafted throughout the large room. Scylax guessed he had interrupted a casual bit of small talk between the friends.

After nearly a minute of this, Scylax could take no more. "I'll be back in a sec," he said, standing from his seat and trying to locate the bathrooms in the dimly lit room. The flares of fires exploding from the grills as new customers had their food prepared made it a little difficult to read the signs beckoning him to a temporary reprieve from Weslyn's concerned eyes and Hannibal's awkward projection.

But the most curious thing happened to catch his eye.

The signs he had been following mistakenly directed him to the entrance of the place, where the hostesses and other staff workers buzzed around during the busy time of night. Also in the front was where the guests without reservations waited, the wooden and bamboo cabin-like interior offering solace from the nighttime wind. The guests sat on the similar bamboo-wood benches and talked, their voices swelling to an unstoppable mass.

And, sitting on one of those benches was the girl.

Scylax walked past, a feeling of danger and almost… familiarity overloading his senses. He walked past the groups waiting around the entrance and walked through the doors, seeking respite on the sidewalk outside. He leaned against the wall, watching the traffic go by, the previous feeling fading from his mind and gut. The bustling sounds of the nightlife made him feel more relaxed; this wasn't necessary his element, but he was very familiar with it.

Naturally, that feeling similarly faded into nothing when a twenty party group or so left the restaurant.

Followed by the girl.

She walked on her tall black boots, her jacket swaying around her. She seemed to be following something. Scylax was naturally curious.

Besides, it took him away from the awkwardness of his group. He waited for the group to continue down the sidewalk for a bit longer, then followed, hands in his hoodie pockets, his head kept anonymously down.

After several minutes, the group ran into a large crowd waiting outside of a flashing nightclub, its blaring music heard even from outside the building. In the mass, Scylax lost the group.

But he didn't lose the girl. Contrarily, she seemed to be in a very different mood. Scylax tagged her as a pickpocket. She probably got a big score off the group, if she was lucky or skilled. Scylax knew her type.

Time to confront her about it.  
After two more turns, a crossing of a street, and a near discovery, Scylax saw her turn into an alley. The two were a decent ways away from any nearby restaurants or clubs. Scylax could once again here his own footfalls on the concrete. He waited a good ten seconds before following.

The alley was as typical as always. A lone light stridently glowed from the backdoor of a closed butcher shop, a girthy padlock stopping any unwanted intrusion. The alley took one more turn, coming to a dead end at a green dumpster that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

Most perplexingly of all, Scylax could not locate the girl.

He strode closer to the dumpster. Even in this relative darkness, he could pick up most details. Maybe she ducked into a door? No, there was only one; the closed butcher shop back around the corner. No way she got through that padlock.

Maybe he missed something obvious. The light may have played a trick on his vision. Was there another turn? He turned to look back at the alley, having made it all the way to the foot of the dumpster, before he was kicked in the back, driving him to the ground.

The strike caught him between the shoulder blades. Like a reverse cat, he managed to spin with the strike and land on his back, the wind knocked out of him. His assailant landed on top of him almost instantaneously, throwing his hood back and knocking his head against the concrete, further stunning him. Scylax recovered quickly, catching a punch from the assailant in his hand and grabbing the wrist with the other, throwing the unknown attacker off of himself and further down the alley, towards the street. The throw should have broken any regular person's arm or wrist, though the assailant seemed to take it without a sound. Scylax darted up, his wrists unconsciously flicking down before he could remember he wasn't armed.

 _Carelessness gets you killed, you idiot._ In an attempt to escape the restaurant, Scylax had found himself dropping his guard.

It wouldn't happen again.

The assailant stood, and Scylax recognized her as the girl he was tailing. He realized just how diminutive in height she was compared to him, even if he was just about as normal height as anyone could get. Her startlingly emerald eyes ( _just like mine_ ) gleamed back at him as the two examined each other, each frozen in protective fighting stances, mere feet away from each other. They both waited for the other to make a move.

Scylax took in her short-cut hair, her small stature, her fierce eyes. Seconds passed. The feeling of familiarity was driving him insane, and as he wracked his brain to figure out way, her eyes suddenly went wide as she stepped out of her fighting stance. The emerald eyes that had so tantalized him before changed in a blink, her right pupil turning pink, the other, a chocolate brown.

Scylax righted himself as well, a feeling of shock rocketing through his body.

"N-…Neo?"


	14. An Unspoken Friendship

**_I WAS SO CLOSE WHY DOES TIME MOVE SO FAST_**

 ** _I ALMOST GOT IT UPLOADED ON TIME_**

 ** _Well, here you go. This is a bit of a longer Interlude, but I'll hopefully be coming out with the next chapters sometime within the next 2 weeks._**

 ** _UPDATE:_**

 ** _EXAMS WILL PREVENT ME FOR WRITING THIS ENTIRE WEEK AND PART OF THE NEXT_**

 ** _THE NEXT CHAPTERS WILL HOPEFULLY BE READY BY THE WEEK AFTER NEXT_**

* * *

 _I am but a ghost now_

 _But once upon a time_

 _Long ago_

 _I was just a boy_

* * *

An Unspoken Friendship (Interlude 2)

The girl sat in the alley, watching the stream of water run through the half-pipe, the mostly clear water making its soothing noise as it ran through the center of the downtown. The river ran almost ten meters across. It was shallow. Most of the sewers and other water intake areas filtered through here. She was wearing her usual attire: a pink, frilly miniskirt, whitish stockings and white, sandals, all with a pink blouse to top it off. It reminded her of how life used to be.

The girl watched from the shadows of an alley as the water resolutely gushed forward. Time marched stubbornly on. It had been six days since she had seen last her parents. They left one night, promising to return home with gifts and love. She trusted them.

Then the police came. Other people. With suits, briefcases. Words like "mortgage" and "bankruptcy", "debt", even "foreclosure". She was familiar with that last one. She was a smart eight year old, with a wide vocabulary and a decent grasp of math.

Too bad it meant nothing now.

She was taken to the police station. They tried to find her parents, but couldn't. They reassured her, comforted her, promised her the stars.

She had seen where promises had gotten her.

The kids at the orphanage laughed at her. She was weird. She looked weird. She didn't talk. She didn't want to. She cried a lot. What was a better target for a child's evil tendencies?

After two days, she ran away. She was good at that. Running. No one could catch her. No one could find her. Sure, she paid a price for her solidarity; she was hungry, she was cold, she was lonely, she was scared.

But, at times like this, she enjoyed the pain the came with the loneliness.

There. Down by the river. A kid. Probably eight, around her age. He wore a dark green shirt that didn't look very dirty. A huge, stupid smile was on his face. He carried a stick, and, for whatever reason, decided to poke the water at random times. He seemed to be enjoying himself. It annoyed the girl. How dare anyone be happy around her, while she sat in a gloomy and resolute silence, the only thing that seemed to help the pain? She would walk down to him. Make him understand.

Somehow.

* * *

She approached the boy from behind. For whatever reason he kept sticking the stick into the stream, the rushing water trying to snatch it away from him. Because he was so focused on his task, he didn't realize the girl was behind her until she came to a stop, loudly slapping her foot on the concrete to get his attention.

His response was expected and unexpected. He nearly jumped into air in surprise, his face white with fear as he spun around. But he recovered quickly, color returning to his pale face, a small smile creeping across his lips. His startlingly emerald eyes gleamed with adrenaline.

"Trying to scare me, are you?"

The girl just blinked, trying to keep her face straight, her annoyance bottled up inside her head, never to see the light of day. She hated these types of people, so full of themselves and bombastically superior to everyone around them. She had seen his type around the orphanage a lot; they were the type of child to bully and tease her.

For almost a full ten seconds, the boy stood still. The girl could now see the stick in his had was not a stick at all but a thin, rusty pipe.

"Well? Anything to say?"

No response. He didn't seem fazed by her strange silence.

"If you've got nothing to say, can you pl-"

The water in the stream erupted from a force with. The boy turned instantly, crouching. The girl, if she knew better, would call it a fighting stance.

A head appeared out of the water, followed by a giant claws and wings. Within seconds, a dragon, nearly thirty meters tall, its wings spread, roared itself into being. It's glowing red eyes focused on the boy. They sat staring for a few seconds.

The boy turned around, his pupils large with what she assumed to be fright. The assumption was blasted away when she saw the smirk that had reappeared on his face.

"That's really awesome. You can create illusions?"

The girl was dumbfounded. Why wasn't he running away, screaming for his mom and dad to save him? This child was making her uneasy.

 _Funny. I think of his as a child when I'm just as old as he his_.

"First of all, your dragon had his back right leg missing. Like, completely _not there._ I'm not sure how you create those things, but you might want to practice more. Second, the half-pipe is only three meters deep or so, so there's no way something that size could even hide itself. Third, and this is how I know you did this, is your reaction. You didn't look at the dragon. You didn't start running away. You just stood completely still, looking straight at the back of my head, waiting." The smirk was annoying her.

"So, did I get anything wrong?"

The girl, finally coming to her wits, narrowed her eyes. Her bottled up annoyance had turned to anger. Even when startled by a loud noise, even with something he couldn't easily explain, the boy had remained completely calm, and then went on to completely mentally disassemble her illusion, finally coming and turning around to confront her about it. His precociousness outraged her.

Finally, knocked out of her stupor by his explanation, the girl's eyes narrowed in anger, her bottled up annoyance expressing itself as the anger she felt. All she wanted was a simple, peaceful, landscape to stare and mope at while she tried to forget her pain. Was it that much to ask?

The boy had already turned back around, poking the long pole back into the water, almost up to his hand. After a few seconds of prodding, the pole struck something solid, and the boy quickly spun it in a small circle, pulling it and whatever it had caught to the surface.

He pulled the pole out of the water, a rusty, waterlogged chain wrapped around its lower end. The chain was connected to a container, which the boy immediately grabbed. The box was nearly as large as his head, yet he carried it with ease in one hand, leaning down and using the other to throw the pole and the chain it was connected to back into the half-pipe. He looked up, noticing she was still there.

"Well, my work here is done. Do you want to come for dinner? We haven't much, but I'm so bored out of my mind right now, anyone to talk to would be welcome. Besides, that illusion was cool. You might even get some food, if she allows it."

The girl's stomach rumbled loudly. She had barely eaten anything for two straight days. At least in the orphanage she had gotten food, clean water, and a decent bed. This boy might be offering all three of those things.

Naturally, she nodded yes.

* * *

The boy led her back to a small, crumbling building, all boarded up and generally abandoned. Its signed claimed it was a grocery store, but it looked like it had been forsaken for years. The building itself was situated between a crumbling apartment complex and another, shorter build with no obvious purpose. The boy carefully removed a loose panel from the doorway and ducked under. The girl, after a moment of hesitation, followed.

Inside, the building seemed a lot cleaner. There were electric lamps, powered by actual wall sockets. Somehow, the boy, or whoever was with him, had managed to pirate electricity off the power grid.

The inside didn't have the usual shelves she was used to in the market she had visited with her family. Rather, they were shoved into a corner, their metal rusted and corrugated. The floor was mostly empty, apart from the random bits and bobs strewn around the room. There, in the corner, a workbench. In another, a small but sturdy green backpack. It looked like a proper hideout, complete with a dark and generally decrepit feel over everything inside.

"Come sit down. I don't think she's going to be in tonight, but I can still try and make something. And if not, I still have my stash." The boy set the container down by a purple sleeping mat, sitting comfortably in the corner. He turned around and motioned to a chair, he already making the move to sit down in a foldable lawn chair. The girl followed, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair, its back broken so it worked more like a stool.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Well, I guess it's "our" humble abode, but she isn't here right now, so I get to let my hubris take over for a bit. You're probably hungry, aren't you?" He jumped up from his chair and went over to the checkout counter, ducking behind and coming out with a package of Cheesy Bits. Probably one of the unhealthiest things she could've eaten, but in that moment she didn't care. The boy slung the bag across the room, and the girl caught it with ease, breaking its seal and stuffing its deliciously processed contents into her small mouth.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey, that's my last bag!" The boy clambered away from the counter, moving towards the girl, before he thought better of it, instead moving towards the counter once more. The girl ate noisily, messily, and generally impolitely, but she couldn't care less. She was given food, and expected to eat it. Nothing more was expected.

The boy returned from the counter with a bottle of water, a small, forlorn look on his face. The girl assumed it really was his last bag. She guiltily accepted the water in her characteristic silence and finished the bag, moving on the open the bottle and guzzle its contents down. Finally, whens he was finished, she licked her fingers clean and wiped the on her blouse, and looked up at the boy.

He was reclining in his chair, trying to relax in a more comfortable position. "So, what's your name? You haven't spoken since… well, ever."

Silence. She didn't speak. Should she break her vow, and tell him? After what he's done for her, he seemed like someone she could trust.

But she just couldn't force herself to talk.

"Well, if you're not gonna talk, I'll just give you one."

 _Give her one?_ She was more than angry. This boy would just… _name her_? What was he even thinking? She could just write it down to tell him, or maybe she wouldn't even tell him her name, or-

"What's going on with your eyes?"

In her anger, she forgot to keep up her illusion. Her normal, unassuming blue eyes changed to her regular yet strange pupil colors; the right one pink, the left brown. It had been her main source of bullying in the orphanage, so she had hidden it behind a simple illusion. Now, she worried what the boy would think now that she let it slip.

He was currently leaning forward, staring her in the eyes with such intensity she almost looked away in embarrassment. He looked to be in thought.

"There was this really cool word I saw in a book once, describing a special type of ice cream. It was… it's on the tip of my tongue I swear…" he leaned back as he wracked his mind for the word. Seconds later, he shot forward.

"Neapolitan! Yes, that's the word, Neapolitan. That's a bit of a mouthful, though. How about Nea?" He seemed to physically cringe at the name, his face contorted in fake pain. "I mean, it does sound inherently feminine. No, that it's terrible. Neo, maybe? Then I could call you Neo-politan! It all works out!" He leaned back again, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"I hereby dub thee, Neo."

 _He mind sure does jump around._ If he saw her as Neo, Neo was what she would be.

How much harm would it be to have a nickname?

And it was kinda cool.

After a few more minutes of questions from the boy, with her newly anointed name, Neo grew tired. The boy asked questions, and when she didn't answer, he asked another. Was he stupid? She didn't think so; but whatever he was doing, she couldn't see its purpose. Eventually, he too tired of the one sided conversation, and went over to one of the discarded shelves of the store, this one actually in use and stacked with books. Books of all different genres, with fantasy, non-fiction, even a few a math and literature textbooks in the mix. It seemed to boy tried to read everything he could get his hands on. He selected an unassuming purple cover, one without a title. He returned to his seat, slipping into a more comfortable position and opening to a random page. After a minute or so of flipping and reading, he seemed to remember Neo.

"Not sure if you like reading, or if you can read in the first place, (that last part he said under his breath) but you're welcome to my collection. I warn you in advance; they aren't sorted at all."

As is happened, Neo could not only read, but reading used to be a pastime of her young, eight-year-old self, back when she had easy access to books. Just another thing lost alongside her parent's untimely departure.

So, she selected a book, and in an awkward but content silence, returned to her seat and read.

After nearly an hour of this, the boy suddenly stood up and replaced the purple book on the shelf. Looking through a crack in the planks at the doorway, Neo realized with surprise that it was nighttime. The lights inside the store had confused her sense of time. She realized just how tired she was; the illusion she made down by the pipe was largely a product of her annoyance and anger, and took a lot of energy to create and maintain.

"Well, this is going to be a bit of a problem," the boy said, having approached the corner in which the large bedroll was located.

"Do you have a place to go for the night?" he asked, turning to Neo. She thought about lying, but she nodded no.

"There's usually two bedrolls here, and, because you're the first person that's stayed here, and because she's gone for a bit, there's only one." He turned back to the bedroll. It was a large one, designed to easily fit a large adult.

"To further compound the problem, I actually need to sleep in this, too. Vacuo nights get really cold this time of year, as in all year. You know, being a desert and all."

Neo had replaced her book on the shelf and stood by the boy, waiting to hear his thoughts aloud.

He sighed heavily. "It seems we have to share, huh?" He turned, a bit of embarrassment obvious on his face. Neo felt more than a little uncomfortable. The boy slipped into the roll, moving himself over to the edge, and looked expectantly at Neo. When she didn't move, he began to look a little annoyed. "Come on. This is night we're talking about. (Well, I guess I'm the one talking about it.) We don't have nearly enough blankets for you to actually sleep in this cold."

Finally, after a few more seconds, Neo removed her shoes and slipped into the bag with the boy. It was unexpectedly chilled, as if the boy wasn't giving off any body heat. Strange, but it could just be the size of the bag. Even with the two at the edges of the bag, Neo found that she was pushed tightly against the boy.

Luckily, though the boy did not have enough blankets to last the Vacuoan night, he did have plenty of clean pillows. They each took their own, and with a flick of a lamp switch, the store plunged into darkness. They both lay next to each other, trying not to move as to not disturb each other.

A few minutes passed. The boy readjusted himself. The ground was hard and cold. The bag finally warmed up, reflecting the heat from Neo's body. She was starting to feel the beginnings of sleep when, out of the blue, the boy spoke.

"My name's Scylax, by the way. You never really asked, but I thought I should tell."

He didn't say anything else. He probably wasn't expecting an answer at this point.

* * *

"Yeah, gotta leave soon. Isn't safe anymore." The boy was talking quickly as Neo stood at the doorway. They had become friends over the past four months. Since then, the boy had moved his location four times, but all within the slums of Vacuo. They remained friends. Scylax even convinced her to go for work for a florist. It was further in the city, and, as a minor, had to be given appropriate lodging and adopt her peers as legal guardians, but the safe house, the apprenticeship, and everything that came with it made the slight trip all the more worthy.

But now, the boy claimed to be leaving.

"I'm sure to come back. I just don't know when." He had grown in the four months. He now stood nearly two full inches taller than her, when before, they were about the same height.

"Don't worry," he said, turning after stuffing the remaining books he planned to take with him into a knapsack. The rest would go to her. "I'm sure we'll find each other sometime soon." He hefted the sack, walking past Neo and out the door. He turned down the sidewalk away from the abandoned warehouse in which he had been staying. He was halfway down the sidewalk when he stopped. Neo hadn't moved at all.

Suddenly, he slung his bag off his shoulder and sprinted back. Neo wondered if there was trouble. He seemed to constantly be in a state of hiding, even in the short time she knew him. He was sprinting at her with a hard, determined look on his face, his emerald eyes gleaming with emotion.

Scylax proceeded to nearly tackle Neo in a hug.

She hugged back immediately, of course. But this sort of contact was far from normal. Sure, they had "conversation", in which Neo would write phrases or sentences or talking points down. They grew to be friends, and sure, enjoyed each other's company, whether spoken or silent. But never had they touched since that night in the shared bedroll. Scylax wasn't in any way fond of physical contact, which she knew.

So what could cause him to do this?

The boy was crying silently, his tears wetting Neo's white florist apron. They stood there for nearly ten seconds, the boy holding Neo tight. Finally, he let go. His eyes, strangely, were not red from crying. A small smile gleamed on his face.

"Remember me."

And with that, a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder, Scylax turned and walked down the sidewalk, slung his sack over his shoulder, and disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Neo walked out of the shop. Her guardian, Gentra, was kind woman, but a hard taskmaster. It was her eleventh birthday, and she sat outside the shop in the alley, reading. She could read in the store, but it was busy, as her birthday coincided with a local holiday. As per an agreement, Neo would not have to work on her birthday, and would be taken out to a special restaurant of her choosing, and a small celebration. Neo was completely fine with the small celebration part. She didn't like a lot of attention and such, but she did enjoy the slightest bit of pampering.

Her presents usually consisted of books or other things. She was attending school again, though she had so far majorly surpassed her fellow classmates. She didn't have friends, but not bullied. People respected her for her knowledge, and that she was content with. She didn't need friends.

So there she sat, in the dirty alley, sitting in a clean, comfortable chair, a book in her hands, when a boy turned into the alley. Neo looked up, uncomprehending, with a feeling of mild fear twisting through her stomach, until she saw the gleaming, emerald eyes.

Neo jumped up in surprise, the boy standing still at the mouth of the alley. He wasn't sure how he had found her, but she didn't really care.

Her only friend had come back.

After running up to give him a hug, she stopped to get a closer look at the boy.

He was considerable taller than she last saw him, standing nearly four inches over her. She assumed he was around eleven, though she had no idea. His smarting smirk had been replaced with a kinder, gentler smile that showed his real happiness. His eyes gleamed, and he had hugged her tightly. She noticed a small scar just to the right of his eye, already going pale with age. He was wearing a grey hoodie and shorts, with a pair of ratty sneakers on his feet.

Neo couldn't be happier to see him.

"Been a while, huh?" His voice was deeper than she remembered, though not significantly.

Neo nodded excitedly. She quickly ran back to her chair and picked up her book. Scylax followed close behind her. She turned and showed him the cover, the second book in a series he had claimed to be his favorite, but a title he did not own.

"Wait, it actually got released?"

She nodded again, and tried to give the book to him. She hadn't finished it yet, but she wanted to repay him for all he had done for her.

Scylax shook his head no. He had seen the folded page from the side. "I'll read it after you finish it."

Unexpectedly, he moved in once again for a hug. "I can't stay. I just wanted to say hi. I'll be back soon, I hope."

And like that, he turned around and left the alley in a jog.

* * *

Over the next few months, the two met and fell back into their regular schedule. Neo happily told him via her new Scroll about her life and events since his departure. Scylax told a few stories, but stayed unusually quiet. He seemed… quieter than his old self. Generally, he seemed larger, more mature. She never went to find him; Scylax always come to her, either in a nondescript place like an alley or at Neo's home.

That wasn't the only difference. Scylax himself seemed different. Something definitely happened, but if he didn't want to talk about it. Neo did ask where the scar came from, and giggled and told a funny story about a struggle with swimming. But Neo could tell he was lying.

But if he wanted to keep something from her, so be it. It's not like two friends never have secrets.

This went on for almost two years. Occasionally, he would leave for a month at a time, maybe a week. It had become regular.

Neo had turned thirteen a few weeks ago. She had grown used to Scylax's presence. He was a comfortable constant in her life as she continued on in school. Everything seemed to be going well. She wasn't growing as tall as she wished she was, but that hardly mattered. She didn't have friends; she didn't care about outside judgment. Scylax seemed to accept her for whom she was, and that was more than enough.

But then, one day, he didn't show up.

Neo was confused. They had clearly confirmed that today was a day they would meet. Neo had just finished a book she planned to give to Scylax. He seemed excited enough about the possibility of receiving it. But he didn't even come to collect. Neo initially dismissed his absence as trivial. Surely, he would show up another day, right?

For the next two days, Scylax was nowhere to be seen. Neo even went to a few of their previous meeting places, but he was never there. Neo was past concerned; Scylax would have told her in advance if he would be absent from their meetings.

Finally, on the third day, Scylax appeared.

It was just as the light of the day was fading away, the sun dipping below the horizon. It was a cloudless day, and it would soon be a cloudless night.

Neo sat in her usual place, reading a book, as she always did.

He came running around the corner of the alley. Neo jumped in surprise as he appeared. She stood still, watching the boy run down the alley towards her. He was wearing a strange cloak, one that was just slightly too large for him. Its grey and black pattern seemed nondescript, but Neo knew it would be excellent nighttime camouflage.

He slowed down, eventually coming to a stop just in front of her. He was breathing heavily. A remnant of a small cut was just above his eyebrow; the flesh still glimmered with the blood it held below his skin.

His eyes looked wild, afraid. Something was wrong, possibly terribly wrong. Neo could see the distraught in his eyes, the pain in his movement, the worry in his posture.

Abruptly, Scylax embraced her. Neo returned the hug, silently lending support to her friend in need. She didn't know what was wrong, but she would be here for him.

He broke off the embrace, looking into her eyes. She had grown used to his intense stares, but she could sense a particularity in this one. One born of desperation, possibly extreme stress. The intensity withered away after a few seconds, and Scylax smiled. It was a sad smile.

"Just wanted to see you. Sorry I couldn't be here for the past few days." He swallowed hard. "I'm not sure I'll get to see you again."  
With that, he abruptly turned and ran out of the alley.

Neo stood frozen in confusion for a few seconds. Then, like any good friend, she ran out of the alley and followed him.

Only to turn the corner and find he was no longer there. The sidewalk bustled with movement, but she couldn't distinguish Scylax from the general crowd. Nevertheless, she tried moving through the crowd, but she could not find him. Eventually, she stopped, thinking about what to do next.

Obviously, she couldn't leave the boy alone. It was clear something was going on, and Neo wanted to help her friend any way.

So she started with the obvious. She went around town, back to their old meeting spots, to the place she originally met him, even to the nearby alleys of the sewage half-pipe. By the time she was done searching, the two moons rose above the horizon in their full glory. It had been hours. There was only one place left to check.

As Neo entered the industrial area, she struggled to find the old hideout of her compatriot. It had been years since she had been to the abandoned store when she had shared the sleeping bag with the emerald-eyed boy.

Alas, after some extensive searching and mind wracking, she found the place. The boards had slipped off the front entrance, and a small light showed through the boarded-up windows. Excitedly but silently, Neo entered the building.

There was something wrong. Something terribly wrong. The entire room was covered with the dust of abandonment, but Neo expected that. There were no familiar objects, save for one flickering, electric lamp in the back of the room.

Neo expected something bad. She just didn't expect so much blood.

It was everywhere, flecks and drips and drops splattering the floor, the shelves, the walls. A small figure huddled in a corner near the lamp, his strange cloak covered in the same red. His back was to her, and he gave no acknowledgment that he even knew she was there.

Scylax was murmuring something. He was curled into the fetal position, quietly sobbing as he gently rocked back and forth on the hard, concrete ground. Naturally, Neo wanted to run to him, to see what was wrong, how she could help, but something was off. Not only had Scylax never acted like this, he seemed to exude an air of absolute unfamiliarity that made Neo hesitant to approach. Was this even the boy she knew?

She slowly approached, her shoes barely making a sound on the concrete. The boy took no notice of her existence.

Quietly, carefully, she tapped on his shoulder.

Neo found herself on the ground, a heavy weight on her chest and body. She must've hit her head when Scylax tackled her. Her arms were pinned to her sides by the larger boy.

If she still wanted to call the thing on her chest a boy.

Its red eyes glowed with absolute, utter hate. The face was frozen in a look of constant pain. The boy's entire body was covered in a layer of dust, except for a few wet trails on his face and neck, left over from his tears and blood.

"Y҉oų…" he murmured, his voice coming out as inhuman. Neo met his hate-filled stare with a look of absolute horror. The boy's face changed from one of hate to one of to grief in an instant. He struggled off her chest, standing in a hobble to limp back to his original corner. Blood trailed from his rout. Neo looked down to see that some blood had dripped onto her chest, leaving a growing red stain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered over and over again. The glow had died from his eyes, leaving the emerald she was a little more familiar with. He quietly indulged in his misery, as Neo sat frozen on the ground. After a few minutes, the crying stopped. Scylax stood, his eyes…

His eyes were completely normal. Their emerald gleam that so invigorated Neo seemed to have faded, but the color and person was still there. Cuts dotted his face, still bleeding with that terrible red blood. He had a burn covering his entire leg that looked terrible, the flesh still a greyish-blackish charred color. Neo caught herself gaping as the two stared at each other.

For a few moments, there was complete silence.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Neo didn't answer. She couldn't. Another few moments passed, and Scylax's expression became more and more morose.

Then he was gone.


	15. Chapters 45-48

**_So I had taken a bit of a hiatus from this story for many reasons, including working on another story (The Watcher, on the Spacebattles Original Fiction Forum right now, if anyone's interested), helping a friend do his own, and actual paying work, but I'm back and ready to gleefully and happily continue working on the story. Not just for you guys, but for myself as well._** ** _I actually had to rewrite a few of these chapters because I wanted to change the original direction of the plot. That also added to the time of how long it took the write this, but that's not important. I will not make any promises on my upload schedule, but it would be safe to assume the next update will be much sooner._**

 ** _Note: Remember that little gore warning I had put at the first set of chapters? Yeah, that comes into play now. And will in the future. Just a little warning._**

* * *

 _White masks._

 _Showing conformity. Showing unity._

 _Cowards._

 _A speech. Passionate. Proud._

 _Welcomed._

 _The white masks howl and bay, thirsty for blood and violence._

 _All in the name of justice._

 _The speaker finishes his grand speech._

 _Freedom dies to the thunderous applause._

 _I step forth, ready to show the error in their ways._

* * *

Chapter 45: Macabre and Sentiment

Jaeger expected some sort of trouble. What he didn't expect was how untroubling the trouble was.

He found himself on the main street of Vale, in the center square. A huge protest was taking place, and, by the many mammalian appendages represented, he assumed it was a White Fang protest. The many brash and colorful signs with occasionally witty comments caught his attention momentarily, but he quickly dismissed them.

Why were there so many organized protests as of late?

A smaller but still imposing group of counter-protesters lined the opposite of the square, the police placed between them in strategic locations. But even then, even the size of the counter-protester crown could easily overwhelm the police in their peaceful means. Jaeger had seen this before. There would be violence soon, as the speakers on opposing sides would rally their respective causes to even greater levels of passion.

Did that mean he had to save someone from the impending chaos and riot? Possibly help try to prevent it? Agitate it, even? Jaeger wasn't sure, but he knew he was called here for a reason. And that reason would hopefully reveal itself soon. He couldn't keep his team waiting forever.

* * *

"So, he called us down into Vale when I enjoying a perfectly good 4X Sci-Fi strategy game, in online tournament where I could've won money, no less, only to disappear into the crowds and not reemerge for well over ten minutes?"

"Don't you think you're being a _little_ overdramatic? I mean, it was only a playoff game, and you still can forfeit one without actually being kicked from the tournament."

"Shut up, Aaryan. I don't get many opportunities to express and articulate my righteous rage."

"More like whiney discontent. Well, it is articulate."

"Shut up, you too. This isn't the first time Jaeger has disappeared on us, and I genuinely want to figure out what he's up to." Caer seemed much more excited then usual, and by usual, it meant nearly downright stoic.

"Did you need us two to help you?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not very good at understanding Jaeger, but you guys seem to have it down. He's obviously suspicious. Always checking his phone, taking calls without answering our questions, and that one time he snuck back into our room in the middle of the night through our window, and not even a single word uttered? Aren't you the least curious to figure that out?"

"Wait, he snuck into our room through the _window?_ " Aaryan asked incredulously.

"I forgot. You slept through that."

"You sleep through classes, too," Labib muttered to himself.

"I heard that."

"No regrets."

"Shut up. He brings us here and just disappears. He can't be far."

"Maybe we should investigate the huge shouting that's been going on for the past ten minutes?"

"Seems liked a good enough start." Caer jumped off the bench and set off towards the center block, with Labib and Aaryan close behind.

* * *

Jaeger was thoroughly confused. He had tried to call his contact again on his Scroll, but that got no reply. Either than meant that nothing had changed, so Jaeger should be in the right place…

Or he was being observed.

 _At least one of those two options is acceptable_. Jaeger resumed scanning the crowd. He had made his way over to the Faunas side of the protest, where the rowdiest of all of the protesters were screaming their lungs out in an attempt to add their voices to the already overwhelming loud din of the two crowds. His intuition told him that he should be here, but intuition was annoyingly vague, and he still found himself without a clear objective.

There. Something caught his eye. In the screaming, frothing masses of the crowd of faunas and supporters before him, he caught a clear glimpse of a small girl's face.

She couldn't have been more than twelve. But there she was, on the edge of the huge crowd trying to act like their opinions matter. Her second pair of ears, resembling a cat of some king, was flat against her head with anger.

Jaeger thought she looked familiar.

The crowd pushed forward, pressing on in their screams for justice. Jaeger could see the look in the police's eyes as they realized their current situation. Backup had already been called, but it would come too late.

Then, like an opening of floodgates, the pro-faunas crowd charged forward. The anti-faunas group, seeing their counters rushing forward, met them with a similar charge.

Jaeger started forward as the two crowds met, the screams of pain already erupting from the passionate protesters. Jaeger watched the crowd closely. Possibly this is why he was called here? Maybe someone to save, someone to kill in the chaos? He hoped to recognize someone soon. The police would be coming to break up the crowd soon.

Jaeger had just made it to the edge of the crowd when someone stumbled out of the crowd, running into Jaeger and forcing him back. He caught her in his arms. It was the faunas girl from before, the twelve-something-year-old that had seemed so unusually passionate. Now, with a cut on her eyebrow that was currently blinding one eye with its stream of blood and a slight limp from a missing shoe, the faunas girl didn't seem nearly as passionate.

More like pissed.

Jaeger didn't know what his objective was, and he had to find it soon. He made sure the girl was able to stand and led her a few meters from the crowd before letting her go. He turned around, ready to push through the mass of chaotic people, only to see the girl limp past him, trying to reenter the crowd and, presumably, the fight. As she passed beside him, the ever-vigilant Jaeger quickly grabbed her underneath both arms and hoisted up, lifting her in the air and pinning her back to his chest while simultaneously controlling her arms. She kicked and struggled, but was adequately restrained by the hold.

"Calm down, I'm here to help."

She kept kicking and struggling.

"I'm a faunas, too."

The statement seemed to do the trick, and the girl stopped struggling. Jaeger sighed in resignation and brought the girl over to a side alley about ten meters from the crowd, gently lowering her onto the ground.

"Are you okay?"

Jaeger started off by examining the cut on her eyebrow. It was superficial, but it was bleeding a bit more heavily than he could be comfortable with. He instructed her to put a hand to the cut to help the coagulating process. At no point did the girl seem to respond to his queries. Jaeger glanced back up at the crowd; already, the police reinforcements had surrounded the square and a line of riot shield-equipped police were filing between the center of the crowd, preparing to move in opposite directions and break up the fights.

He turned back to the girl. "Now, let's start by telling me why you were trying to charge back into that crowd."

* * *

"Ah, look at them. They honestly think they're helping change."

"In a way, they are sir."

"True. But unfortunately they won't know until it's too late."

He sighed again. "So passionate. So… committed. It almost warms by cold, dead heart."

He smiled.

"Do it."

* * *

The twin bomb blasts shook the square.

The two shrapnel-based bombs, detonating by well-placed bags inside the crowd by operatives, created absolute devastation.

The bombs' explosive force incinerated those immediately around them, _then_ , in smaller, secondary explosions, launched shrapnel in all directions.

This unique type of detonation is capable of throwing shrapnel almost twice as far than a regular explosion, as the shrapnel that would have launched immediately would only be stopped by the closest of bodies, minimizing casualties.

The shrapnel was thrown over the heads of those who were blown back by the explosion, embedding the ceramic-based flechettes into row upon row of protester and counter-protester alike. The closest rows were shredded beyond recognition.

But it didn't end there.

The shrapnel continued through the crowd and into the bystanders. Everywhere around the square, shrapnel hit someone, whether they are a simple person walking down the street, or a rowdy protester on the second row.

Unfortunately, things only got messier from there.

Instead of immediately rushing to the protesters' aid, everyone and everything that was able to ran. The police (those that were still alive, that is) retreated back to their vehicles, conscious of the possibility of additional explosions. The terrified, mostly innocent crowds trampled one another, in some cases to death, trying to get away from the possibility of another unseen horror. The few and brave that tried to help those already injured were running against a sea of people, and found they could not reach the center of the square.

Finally, most everyone had filtered out of the area, leaving the bloody, dying bodies of their fellows to an untimely, painful demise. Police were already stopping the few that wanted to rush to their fellow's aid, warning of secondary explosions intended for rescuers.

Then the screaming began.

* * *

"You two heard that too, right?"

Labib and the rest of the group immediately turned towards the sound of the explosions. After only a second of hesitation, the three of them took off towards the center square.

Jaeger felt the ground shake as the HE explosions of the twin detonations went off. On reflex, he had tackled the girl, fearing of any shrapnel flitting between the edges of the crowd; he knew it pass through up to three people, especially if it was purposely weaponized.

That instinct might have just saved her life.

The shrapnel that would have flown into the alley and hit the girl was reflected by Jaeger's Aura, the tiny flechettes bouncing off the brick walls of the alley until finally either embedding in said walls or falling to the ground, their kinetic force lost.

Jaeger counted to five before slowly rising to his feet. He helped the girl to her feet and quickly assessed her. She appeared to be fine, bar the head injury and definite limp.

Then Jaeger turned around and froze.

No one in the crowd was spared by the shrapnel. Jaeger saw arms and legs, even entire heads or torsos severed, blood gushing everywhere and mixing into a one congealed, red, expanding puddle. Those that were still alive writhed, screamed, or, if they were too injured or approaching death, simply groaned.

Jaeger felt the girl moving up beside him, trying to get around the boy to see the square. In a few swift movements, he quickly picked her up and followed the alley towards its other entrance, pressing her head tightly into his shoulder, the adrenaline in his bloodstream already wearing off, being replaced by a growing sense of dread.

And for once, the girl didn't struggle.

* * *

Finally, after moving past several police cordons and ducking through alleys, Jaeger came to rest nearly a quarter of a mile from Center Square. He and the girl were now firmly downtown.

Jaeger came to a stop in an alley, away from prying eyes from the street. He put the girl down, coming to a crouch in front of her to inspect her wound. The cut was still bleeding slightly, but as far as head wounds went, this one seemed relatively harmless.

Jaeger moved over to sit down on a nearby crate. The girl stood awkwardly, her shoeless foot held slightly off the ground. After a few moments, Jaeger spoke.

"So, who are you?"

The girl looked a little unsure. "Are you sure you're a faunas?" she asked hesitantly.

Jaeger sighed and pulled down his hood. A pair of brown wolf-like ears twitched as they rose from their previously flat position.

The girl seemed a little more relaxed. She limped up to the crate and sat next to Jaeger, her previous fear temporarily forgotten.

"So? Care to answer my questions?"

"Why should I?"

"You saw what happened back there. I just saved your life. I could at least tell me your name."

She huffed. "Fine. Cara Redeker."

Jaeger raised an eyebrow. "Redeker? Really?"

"Yes, really." The girl was getting annoyed. Jaeger realized her eyes were a pale orange color. He wondered if it was natural.

"Can you prove it?"

Cara pulled out a sleek, satellite Scroll that more resembled a miniature tablet. Jaeger was getting uneasy. That type of phone was commonly used by military sources and was rarely available for civilian retail. _What if she is who she really says she is_?

After unlocking the Scroll, she pressed a button and showed the screen to Jaeger.

Staring back at Jaeger, with a neutral, cold look and a snarky smile, was his target.

* * *

"Holy shit."

Those were the only words said as Caer, Jaeger, and Aaryan saw the macabre spread out before them.

The police had refused to enter the center of the square for fear of more waiting explosives. Either automated units of a properly prepared bomb squad or a manned mission would occur soon, but both would take at least another twenty minutes to prep.

Meanwhile, square still played its song of death.

* * *

"That's your dad?"

"Yep. I'm sure he's pretty upset right now."

"Him? Upset? I doubt it."

"You know my dad?"

"I did. A long time ago."

"What happened?"

"Many things. We disagreed on a lot of issues, and I eventually up and left." Jaeger rubbed his shoulder, the scar concealed beneath his hoodie tingling with memory.

"Needless to say, he didn't like that."

Jaeger shifted. "Enough about me. What were you doing in that crowd?"

"Dad doesn't like it when I go to protests. Something about the atmosphere being hostile or potentially dangerous." Cara glanced down guiltily. "I guess he was right."

"An understatement if I ever heard one."

"But, with him being the boss and all, I was sure he wouldn't mind if I showed how helpful I was being, right?" Her ears twitched as she turned to face Jaeger.

"Nevermind that. Why did you charge back in?"

"Got caught up in the heat of the moment, I guess."

"Yeah, that was pretty dumb."

Jaeger stood. "Well, we should probably try to get you back to your father. Do you know where I can take you to him? Maybe you can call him on your Scroll?"

Jaeger turned away from the girl towards the mouth of the alley to walk out, only to freeze. Four faunas in very expensive-looking suits were standing at the mouth of the alley.

Each had a handgun drawn and ready.

* * *

The scene before him made Caer sick. The sounds, the screams, the blood, all familiar yet utterly and frighteningly foreign.

He found he could never get used to it.

The police had cleared the area as fast they could. The second the scene was pronounced clear, paramedics rushed to the dying and dead. The square no longer sang its song of death; rather, a worrying and sanguine silence had fallen over the still bodies.

 _Thirty full minutes_. Enough time for anyone with a survivable wound to turn mortal. Maximum casualties. Whoever was responsible for these attacks, they clearly know what they were doing.

Just another thought Caer wished he never had.

He and the other two had helped any way they could. In some primary schools, children were taught life-saving techniques and first aid for several unrelated reasons. In most Atlas public schools, part of the graduation test involved a paramedic-like exam of a graduate's skill. Labib and Aaryan had clearly been trained; Aaryan for his status as a noble, Labib for his basic and fundamental knowledge of seemingly everything.

And that left Caer.

He could tie a bandage, he could help cauterize a wound with the newest equipment the medics had, he assisted in several firemen carries, but beyond that, Caer found himself to be a glorified spectator.

Finally, _finally_ , the police thanked them for their help, and found themselves blood-soaked, mentally and especially physically. The time was nearing curfew, and only Labib thought to call Jaeger on his Scroll as the three walked towards the dorms.

"You heard the explosion, right?" was Jaeger's first words.

Labib glanced at the other two. Aaryan's hair had long since stopped dripping, but the blood still covered his forehead and tinted his brown hair ugly shade of red. Caer's entire shirt, previously a black and white stripe pattern, still glistened like a new coat of paint. Labib could still feel the dried blood on his nose and cheeks, where a rogue spurt from a hastily removed bandage had caught him.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, but I got lost in the crowd when I thought I saw an old friend, then the police wouldn't let me help. I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find you guys."

Ignoring the fact that Jaeger was lying out of his ass, Labib continued.

"Well, we helped a bit, and since curfew's coming into effect in little less than ten minutes, I would suggest you head back. We'll see you there." Before Jaeger could respond, Labib disconnected the call and slipped his Scroll back into his pocket. Though his shirt stuck to his body with sweat and blood, his pants remained rather clear. The midday sun had done little to warm the cold springtime of Vale, and he was glad to have worn them.

He shrugged to himself and trudged on, picking up the pace as not to be late for nightly role call. He wouldn't want to be late.

That would just be rude.

* * *

"Vindex? You found me!" Cara seemed to genuinely happy to see the hulking beast of a creature. The faunas that she was addressing had two massive horns sprouting from the top of his head; a square jaw seemed to have been placed on his face with titanium reinforcement. His blue eyes glared at Jaeger.

"And this would be?"

"Oh. He saved me from the…" Cara looked down, the happy mood immediately gone from her mind.

Vindex walked down the alley and crouched before Cara. The other guards had replaced their handguns in their overcoats, and situation before Jaeger seemed to instantly diffuse.

There was a little girl that needed consoling, after all.

"Cara, we told you it wasn't safe to go to rallies," Vindex lectured, his harsh tone gone, in a place, something like genuine care. "You can't keep doing this."

"I know, I know…" Cara mumbled. She stood and held out her hands, and, like a well-rehearsed play, Vindex immediately picked her up and sat her atop his shoulders. She seemed immediately happier.

Vindex walked up to Jaeger, eyeing his ears still visible on his head. The man stood nearly a full foot above the teen.

"I don't know the details, but I do have to thank you for your protection of Cara. I couldn't even begin to describe how her father would react if she were hurt, much more myself." He smiled warmly. "The White Fang could use you, ya know."

"Really?" Jaeger asked, trying to force as much youthful idealism and enthusiasm as he could. He internally cringed at his attempt.

"Hey, no need for snark. And I'm serious. There's a meeting that's supposed to remain secret over the old abandoned metal-processing plant downtown. Be there by twelve. Tell the guards Vindex sent you." The faunas turned to leave, the four other bodyguards falling in beside him, the protective formation unnecessary with Cara's perch atop her guardian's shoulders.

As soon as they turned the corner, Jaeger walked out and headed towards Vale. He had quite a walk to go.

And though he remained cautious and constantly vigilant, he found himself smiling the entire way.

* * *

Chapter 46: Too Much a Favor

Jaeger walked into the room a full minute before roll call. His team was in various states of preparation for sleep, with Aaryan assumedly in the shower, with Caer shirtless on his bed, reading his characteristically large book. He barely glanced up when Jaeger entered.

Labib, on the other hand, took a particular interest in his team leader.

"Care to explain?"

Jaeger found himself to be uncharacteristically nervous. He put on a puzzled look. "Explain what?"

"Your separation from us. It was too-"

"Labib, we've been over this. It wasn't intentional," Caer said from the bed, not even bothering to look the sand-haired boy in the eye. "Stop brashly accusing Jaeger for whatever fantasy you seem to have concocted."

"No, I'm not just brashly accusing Jaeger of ditching us. I'm accusing him of ditching us in an informed and indignant manner. So, team leader," Labib said, turning to face Jaeger once more, "why did you ditch us?"

"Labib, you need to s-"

"No, listen to me, I have proof." Labib had raised his voice in annoyance.

"He leaves in the middle of the night and occasionally the day with the faculty seeming completely fine with it, and I personally observed him slip away from us in the crowd using a Class Epsilon evasion technique. I know what I'm talking about. My dad was in an infiltration unit in the military."

As Labib was talking, Aaryan came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. He seemed confused but didn't interrupt.

Caer put down his book. "This is getting ridiculous. Think about what you're saying! It sounds conspiracy theory insane. It sounds Team-RWBY-did-the-Vytal-Attack insane. It so-"

"No, he's right."

The room fell silent. Labib, though slightly smug with his accusations confirmed, was still surprised at how easily Jaeger admitted it.

Jaeger looked at the floor, collecting his thoughts. If he hadn't prepared for this, he would've found himself mumbling half-formed excuses or possibly straight up leaving the room.

But Jaeger would be rather caught dead than not having prepared for everything.

"First of all, I would like to formally introduce myself. My name is Jaeger Pruun, the only solo teenage operational agent for the CCTF, otherwise known as the Combined Counter-Terrorism Force."

Silence.

A small smile crept onto Jaegers lips. Labib's smug look was gone. Completely.

"Okaaaaaaaay. So what exactly are you investigating?" Aaryan asked.

"A White Fang cell that seems committed to lethal attacks and theft in the Valian city area." He smiled to himself. _Pays to be prepared._ "And I need your help."

"In what way?" Caer asked. The three were coming out of their stupor.

"I want you three to come with me on an infiltration mission into a White Fang meeting. Tonight."

The three exploded into outrage. The tumult continued for a few more seconds as the boys vented their surprise-turned-anger, until a knock came from the closed door. The three stopped immediately.

"I'll get it," Jaeger said.

Opening the door, Jaeger exchanged a few words with an older student outside, and then turned away, closing the door behind him. "Night patrol."

"So, back to what I was saying. I need you guys to come with me to the meeting, take a few notes, find out a few things, and nothing else. Does that sound okay?"

"What's in it for us?" Aaryan asked.

"My eternal gratitude and permanent shower privileges?"

"How permanent?"

"Aaryan, you can't seriously be considering this, can you? This is the _White Fang_. You know, the terrorist organization that's killed thousands? Orchestrated the Vytal attack?"

"I'll do it."

Caer stood up from his seat on the bed and faced Jaeger.

"Care to elaborate?" Jaeger asked.

"No."

"Fair enough."

Labib looked helplessly between the giant and the operative. "How are we even going to get in? We're not faunas, and the way you described them, it seems like this is a very anti-human extremist remnant. How do you expect us to get in?" he repeated.

Jaeger smiled. Much like a wolf, one would say.

"Through the front door. They invited me, after all."

* * *

Chapter 47: Welcome to the Underground

It was eerie to Labib. Jaeger had led the group to their weapons lockers. All of their weapons had a collapsible, or at least some smaller and concealable forms. Jaeger convinced them it was for a worst-case scenario, which he subsequently assured wouldn't happen.

The school staff and night watchers in the halls ignored them. Labib didn't know how much of Jaeger's cover they knew, but he wouldn't be asking them about it anytime soon.

Glynda Goodwitch stood by the dorm entrance. After a quick talk, the vice headmaster nodded to Jaeger and disappeared into the night towards the administration building.

They walked through the streets of downtown Vale at a reasonable pace. Jaeger had given them drab, brownish-grey clothes and hoodies from seemingly nowhere. It was a night-goer's wear, and would meld with the parties involved in the meetings sufficiently.

It also helped if they didn't give away their true identities.

All in all, even with the terrifyingly extensive nature of the preparation (almost like he had planned their acceptance beforehand), Labib did not feel as confident as Jaeger about the plan.

The four approached an unassuming warehouse, clearly abandoned with its corrugated metal and blown-out windows. Jaeger eyed his team- as newcomers, he had warned them they would be watched closely. Labib hadn't figured out if anyone was tailing them, but as soon as the four stepped up to the main entrance, six silent figures appeared behind them. A pair of suited faunas, one with the ears of what looked like some kind of big cat, the other, probably a bear, stood by the entrance. Labib found himself being frisked quickly and efficiently; it wouldn't matter, for Jaeger had carefully hidden their weapons on their bodies, extremely confident they wouldn't be found.

Labib was desperately hoping he would be right.

As he was being frisked, the bear-eared faunas came over to Jaeger.

"And you would be?"

"Vindex asked for me. Said I would be a good recruit."

"And those three? They aren't faunas."

"We're just a group of people that believe in justice," Caer said, a convincing amount of enthusiasm yet hardened determination in his voice to make his pitch believable.

And it was. The guard turned to Jaeger again. "You said Vindex asked for you?"

Jaeger nodded. The guard looked to be in deep thought. He had every option to turn away the extra newcomers for the simple sake of security, but if Vindex trust this short, little wolf, then maybe he can bring his sheep along with him.

"Fair enough. I'll get Vindex and tell him you're here; otherwise, go in and wait with the crowd. We should be starting soon."

Jaeger nodded and went in. Labib and the others quickly followed him.

Labib glanced behind him and found themselves in the clear, their previous tails deciding the outside would be more of comfort.

Team JACL was alone.

"Already off to a great start, I see," Aaryan quipped. His brown hair was hidden under his hood, though little tuffs occasionally peaked out from his forehead.

"Preparation is everything, gentlemen," Jaeger said. Labib could feels his smug grin from the back of the group, even if he couldn't see it.

All according to plan, so far.

"Care to tell us who this 'Vindex' character is?" Aaryan quipped.

"Not particularly. The less you know, the better for both of us."

The four walked into the main storage of area of the warehouse. What would've been high-soaring shelves for containment of all sorts of basic materials, the room was completely empty. Near the opposite end of the warehouse stood a make-shift stage, and a group of around fifty to a hundred faunas and a few humans in a crowd before it.

They all wore the characteristic white masks of the White Fang.

Another pair of suited faunas sat on chairs a good ways away from the crowd, near the entrance of the hallway the team had just walked down. Without a word, the team found themselves being handed white masks. Each donned them without hesitation.

Even a mask and a hood couldn't conceal Jaeger's unseen smile from Labib.

The four joined the crowd. It was quiet, for a group of people so large and so closely packed together.

Everyone seemed to be wearing similar clothing, and that fact, combined with the anonymity of the masks, made everyone around Labib feels the same. Most were faunas with their various traits sticking out. A few differences, like the subtle, intimidating gait of Jaeger, the self-assured stance of Aaryan, and the height and mass of Caer, made his team subconsciously stand out from the crowd. As per their instructions, the team spread out amongst the corners of the group. Labib stood off a bit from the crowd, with a group of five people. Four were faunas, as per their obviously mammalian appendages, with an unknown person standing next to a female fauna. He stood unassumingly. Labib approached him from the side.

"Any particular reason you're here?" asked Labib, trying to sound casual. He stood a full head shorter than the man next to him. Though his stance was casual, he radiated a sort of quiet, dangerous energy. Labib began to reconsider his greeting immediately.

"Not much, honestly. Curiosity got the better of her, and I was forced along," the man replied, jerking a finger at his presumed partner, the female faunas. She tossed her short, orange hair in response, eying up the teen that had approached them. A pair of fox ears on her head twitched.

"I suppose I should ask you a question. Why are you trying to get chummy with a group specifically intended to remain anonymous?"

Labib was happy for the mask. "Same answer. I like making a friend of two wherever I go, regardless if I even see their face or ever have contact again."

Labib now cursed the masks that hid them. If he could get a read on the man's face, he could've assessed the response.

But something told him it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Regardless, the man didn't seem to care. He had never directly looked at Labib in the first place, but he could tell his attention was now elsewhere.

A gentle knock was heard on a microphone. A female fauna stood on stage alone. The show was apparently starting.

* * *

Chapter 48: Lies in Truth, Truth in Lies

She stood on stage, her posture showing just how comfortable and confident she was. Her voice had a certain enthusiasm and warm friendliness that made it sound genuine to even Jaeger. She wore a modified White Fang mask that covered her entire face. She had short, light brown hair, not unlike Jaeger's in color or style. A pair of brown rabbit ears stuck up from the top of her head. She wore a brown tunic and similar skirt.

"Hello, everyone. Tonight, we have quite the assortment of characters here, probably for many different reasons. We have former Converts, old Cold Ice members, even a few mercenary groups here with us tonight, all united by the cause for justice." The speaker had a voice changer implanted in her mask, but Jaeger could still discern a prominent Altesian accent.

"Now, I don't want to see any informers here!" The joke surprisingly caught a few laughs from the crowd; Jaeger guessed the speaker knew something personal about a few attendees.

"I know that none of you are the naïve, idealistic sort that flock to our organization. Those idiots still think their opinions matter, even after the many attacks from 'rogue, zealous members' of our organization." More chuckles were heard from the crowd.

"We still work with the upper echelons of our group. But we, and especially our leadership, all know that there's no such thing as a peaceful revolution. Sometimes, violence and force are necessities. We are a group that works for the White Fang, but not publically.

"But, regardless of our actions or crimes, we remain a group devoted to justice. Though your memberships, if they come about, will have a fiscal attachment, we urge you to think of it as more of a personal commitment rather than a financial one. We will give you time to consider, but remember, you commitment must be absolute, and your secrecy at a maximum. As of yet, the authorities still do not know of our existence.

"I thank you for your time."

* * *

"Name?"

"Is anonymity an option?"

"What, you got something to be embarrassed about?"

"A little, yeah."

"Well, no one fucking cares. Since Vindex asked for you, I need your name, or at least an alias you go by."

"Fine. Captor Pressa."

"Any previous affiliations?"

"White Fang, Black Rose, Convert, Firefly. I've been a bit of everywhere."

"So I see. Aura?"

"Good, but I'm no Huntsman. Can stop a bullet or two. No Semblance, though."

"Pity. Any specialties?"

"Stealth. Sabotage. Surveillance."

"My, have we got one here! Bit of a secret agent wannabe, maybe? I suppose it makes sense if you were a Firefly. All right. Your tag-alongs will be under some serious scrutiny."

"They've decided not to join and instead continue with their regular involvement with the organization."

"Can we trust them to keep quiet?"

"Yes."

"Good. Realize that before we can test your self-assessments, you will have a personal interview tonight before your application is accepted. Your friends get one too before they're released."

"Acknowledged."

"Good. Rejoin the crowd until your name is called."

Jaeger walked back to his team, the three standing slightly off to the side of the regular crowd. They tried to appear casual, but Jaeger could tell they were pretty nervous.

"Okay, so you're going to be interviewed before you can be let go. They won't do anything dramatic like kill or imprison you, but it's more to determine if they can trust your judgment or how long they plan to watch you."

"Watch…us?"

"Yeah, they'll stalk you a bit. And if you tell anyone about their organization, they'll kill you and everyone you told, and then all the witnesses just to be safe. I'm not even going to _try_ and explain how the CCTF managed to get a hint of the existence of these guys."

"Well, what should we expect?"

"They'll ask a few questions, and try to assess what sort of person you are. You'll also be recorded and evaluated after their people pass judgment. But you should be fine," Jaeger hurriedly said, "as long as you do what I've said."

* * *

Saying Labib was nervous would be a bit of an understatement. He had strong confidence in the advice Jaeger had given them all, but that was it; just advice. It was up to each individual on how to spin their story and their persona. Jaeger seemed to have complete confidence in them, so maybe Labib should stop worrying.

The room was a small one, a video camera set up behind a second chair facing him. Labib had retained his mask, and didn't feel like removing it anytime soon.

The door opened, and in walked a man about average height. He had an unassuming stature, but Labib felt something inherently _wrong_ by being so close to him.

The man sat down, his white mask gleaming in the pale light of the room. He wore a military-like grey vest and suit, complete with matching pants.

"Remove your mask."

Labib complied, placing it on his lap. The distortion in the interrogator's mask was extreme, and Labib had to strain to understand him.

"Your name is Demissus, correct?"

"Yes." Labib tried to keep his voice steady. The voice changer in the mask of his interrogator was good, but not good enough to filter out his southern Valian accent. Labib guessed him to be a native.

"Your previous post in our organization?"

"A part time rally organizer."

"Do you fully support the actions mentioned here by our speaker?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe that you, even under pain of torture, will be able to keep this branch of our organization secret?"

"Yes."

The questions went on and on. The man asked Labib several questions related to his fake persona's life, probably details they had scrounged out of the public databases for their fake identities. Jaeger had definitely been planning this for a while.

Finally, the man stood up from his seat. Labib couldn't tell if he was satisfied with his answers, but he stood as well. The man opened the door and let him out, calling out to a guard down the corridor to bring the next applicant in. Labib mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Jaeger sat up in the hard, wooden chair, one of two in the small room. No windows, only one escape route that was currently guarded. Under normal conditions, Jaeger would find his mind racing with possible escape plans or traps he could lead his enemies into.

But right now, he was far too happy to be nervous.

The door opened, admitting a female fauna. Jaeger realized it was the speaker from the stage.

"How are you doing tonight?" she asked, her voice changer slightly slurring her words.

"Fine, I suppose. I'm still not sure about a few of the things you said, but I'm willing to join up." Jaeger was surprised by her politeness.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to ease your doubts, ask away. You probably don't want to get into anything you shouldn't have before it's too late, right?"

Jaeger was becoming suspicious. Something was wrong. Something _had_ to be wrong. Why would she be acting this way? So polite? So nice, Jaeger could almost to detect genuine care and cheer in her voice, even with her voice obscured.

"I guess it would help me understand what I'm getting into if you told me why you go into it yourself." Jaeger tried to be as meek as possible, but he didn't think it was working.

"Naughty you, eh? Well, I guess the whole anonymity thing got thrown out the window the second you wanted to join. Take off your mask."

Jaeger removed the mask, his eyes boring deep into where hers would've been behind her own.

"Wow. Much younger than I thought. And yet you cite so much experience…" She hung her head. Jaeger assumed she was smiling.

"Well, you're not much younger than me, and it doesn't really matter anyway."

She sighed, the sound echoing eerily through her mask. "It's a pretty personal question you're asking, but I don't mind answering it. I was wronged, judged, mistreated, bullied, and disowned, and now I'm here."

"Vague, much? That's not a very different predicament than completely regular and benign people."

"Maybe some details might come out when we get to know each other a bit better, okay? Now, let's start with the questioning."

* * *

Jaeger's story was flawless, his persona adequate, his execution and acting perfect. He couldn't have been happier if he tried. All that was left was Caer, with Aaryan supposedly playing his own part almost as well as Jaeger's. And by the look of it, Caer was already being interviewed.

Jaeger had to force back another smile. Things were going well.

* * *

The man before Caer was older than he expected. Shorter than Caer by a head and a half, he sat hunched, nothing before him. He wore a mask similar to the speaker.

"How are you this evening?"

"Good enough."

"Excellent. Remove your mask."

Something seemed wrong about the interrogator's voice, even distorted with its own speaking module. Something weirdly familiar.

Caer brought his own mask down and laid it on his lap. The man sat up suddenly, as if he had just remembered something.

"Caer? Is that you?"


	16. another damn update

Well, I certainly took my time. It took a long break from writing completely, focusing on coopting with a friend of mine and, well, real life has the unfortunate tendency to get in the way. Point is, I'm back, I have a school break coming up, and I'm nearly done with the next chapters. I hope to at least post twice within the next four weeks.

Wish me luck. I'll need it.

EDIT: PLEASE LOOK AT MY BIO FOR INFORMATION


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